I’ve always had such a strong intention to blend my desired concept and my dreams with my real life. I’ve always loved theories, brief puffs of emotion, imagination, segments of beauty, Kodak moments. According to the popularity of Pinterest, so does everyone else. They like believing that the picture will match the real life occasion. The part where the dinner we made was delicious and the music we played made us feel like we were making a feast on some coastal French terrace with friends that are really tan and laugh a lot while drinking red wine. Our imaginations like to create this beautiful scene but leave out the parts where our feet are hurting from today’s work pumps and the pot of burnt rice is still left in the sink with brown crud at the bottom. Concept is vague, an associated feeling, a segment of an entire, messy process, but just the good part. Reality brings in the dusty bits of imperfection.
But as we’ve been shown time and again with research about the online-ego we create, we don’t want reality. We want to Photoshop our daily lives, leave out the boring, stressful, tedious, painful parts. And I know I am the biggest offender in this department. I skip through songs to get to the best part, I reminisce the good parts of my memories over and over and over again, disregarding the whatever parts, I meticulously follow blogs that have pretty pictures and ignore the text, practically drowning myself in make believe or “feel good,” because sometimes that is all I’ve got to work on – reality can be disappointingly practical.
Nothing drew my attention to this more, than my relationship with my boyfriend. Even writing that I kinda want to make that mock gag signal by pointing a finger down my throat. I mean, maintaining this ego-driven idea that I’m this deep-thinking feminist, it makes me frown that I’m discussing my relationship and exhibiting any impact it has on my life. You guys all know, I’m a free thinking individual ;) Alas, I’m also a huge liar. I think about, care about and work a lot on my relationship. It matters to me more than I’d prefer to express and, well, it’s changed me.
I truly thought that love came in one category – one of pure bliss, perfection, pleasure, happiness, romance (I hate admitting that one) and (my fav illusion) that HE would complete me. By that I actually meant he wouldn’t challenge me in any way, but he would just tell me I’m the best thing on this earth and was always right and that he wanted to do everything that I wanted to do at the exact same time that I wanted to do it and would feel the same way. Basically, I didn’t realize it, but I wanted to date a idea. I wanted to be loved by someone so much that it would validate me thinking I was really great and life was perfect. I didn’t want to love someone. I just wanted to be 100% adored and live an expectation I set for myself.
Loving him was accidental, fateful, sometimes shitty, sometimes beautiful, sometimes perfect and sometimes all levels of WTF. I was my own biggest fool of love, thinking it was all about myself, my ideas, my theories, my dreams and was put smack dab in the middle of loving someone who was none of these ideas in many respects. I had to negotiate with myself and many times I hated it, I countered my own emotions saying that if I was with the right person, if I had fallen in love with the right person, everything would perfect and going exactly as planned.
I didn’t realize that love is one of those things you don’t really chose. It just happens and if you want it, you maintain it.
He’ll be the first to admit this. Omitting the rare occasion that he is super mushy because I’ve engulfed him in a weekend of lovey-dovey, couple-centric activities, this guy is NOT romantic. He hates fantasy. He lives for facts, practicality, NPR and statistics. He likes things simple. He doesn’t like being emotional. Crying turns him into stone. He savors being alone and does not prefer to mule of his emotions but rather play some really aggressive/militant video game. Art just confuses him and he gets no joy from posting cute pictures of us on Facebook (HA I can’t even imagine). I love make believe, kittens, talking about myself and my emotions, talking about other peoples lives and analyzing them. I live for beautiful things and crying is like crack to me. It feels good to let it out when I need to. I also love being around other people, pretty much all the time, even if I’m not talking to them. Art makes the blood course through my damn veins and I love showing the fun, happy, romantic, cute, epic parts of my life.
But there are many things Facebook, Pinterest, imagination and dreams cannot foresee. They don’t consider the monotonous weeknights that are turned humorous or simply happy from his company, they don’t show the times I’ve been all levels fucked-up/crying/crazy woman and had his shoulder to cry on. Most importantly my imaginary relationship doesn’t show the total function of all the little things, the little crap that is insignificant, boring, stressful, shitty or down right UGH that we’ve pulled through together or made all better by supporting each other.
While Mr.Serious might not give a rats ass about smiling in pictures and looking like we’re having the time of our lives, he will really be there in the moment and not because he’s envisioning how the moment should go, it just does and he lives it. (gushing words, get ready) I love the way he is so truly genuine that he may not seem like the warmest person, the most likeable, popular, charismatic person, but while everybody else is trying to prove themselves to you and their social setting, he’ll be the one who catches your fall whether he seems to like you or not. Whether he loves you or hates you, he will always respect you and show it. He is not above anyone or below anyone, he just is. Humble and confident all at once.
Truth be told he could theoretically be my other half. We have many commonalities but a ton of huge differences that really turn each other inside out and see what we each lack or fulfill. While I’ve spent much of my life thinking that I was open minded, I never realized how close minded I was to people that weren’t into the same things as me, who didn’t thrive off of other peoples energy or love talking on the phone. It took loving a man as such to see a little better as to what I am, to see how much imagined love and true love can both intersect and all at once seem like oil and water. I’ve learned that love is not green grass you placed in your imaginary yard as a little girl – love is not always a “match the two identical cards” game but sometimes a two very well fitting, albeit jagged, puzzle pieces game.