Saturday, July 2, 2011

Tuna Cans

When I was fifteen I wrote down in my diary all the things I was afraid of:

-my friends not liking me
-being a bad kisser
-going to parties
-smelling bad

Now I am 23. And these are the things I am afraid of.

-men who would rather be boys
-bad sex
-cheap booze
-drug [tests] just kidding mom
-my friends not liking me
-going to parties and holding hands when you are not supposed to
-smelling bad

Some fears are universal, I learned. It was fun to see how un-far I have come in some areas of my life and now far I have come in others. Suddenly, being 23 feels not so old, perhaps I have started paying my own bills and burrowing into adulthood, but I am still scared of body odor and I am always worried that my people in my life will have heart seizures and stop altogether enjoying my company.

Some fears are newly developed, however. The fear of losing people now that I am 23 and understand when there is something worth holding onto. When, because of this person, ordinary things like camping trips and early morning nooky become 10x more exciting. Is making a sandwich routine? NO WAY. Grocery shopping is like an roller coaster. Perhaps we waltzed in the cereal isle. He can swing dance when boiling water and play dead for my tiny dog to sniff and sniff until he convulses with happiness because his other playmate is so much cooler than mom. He opens tuna cans by just looking at them. Together, the world is open for business. Brushing your teeth is sexy when you do it side by side.

And to watch the potential of your Disneyland relationship slip down through your hands like old bathwater is perhaps the fear that drains me most of all.

But ultimately, you mustn't lie down in the wake of the tidal wave of fear. You must stand up to watch it crash and destroy everything, hoping that when the water subsides, there he will be, waltzing his way back into your arms so we can head off to our next great adventure.

The Other Way Around

I knew a guy that had his heart absolutely smashed by the first girl he ever loved.

He was a successful man, at the top of his field for his age, and wanted to go further in his career. He had built a neat little empire form which to stand on, and finally found the right type of gal to stand with him.

She said no, though.

I talked with him a few times about it, desparing at his sorrow. It was difficult to watch someone who knows everything suddenly know nothing. Even if the moments were brief, they were there, and they struck a chord in my heart when I watched him put his head in his hands.

I get it now, though.