In my circles, we only date seriously. We date with a purpose, to really get to know the other person, to connect with them on such a plane that we could honestly imagine spending the rest of our lives with them. We date for marriage, and marriage only.
It sounds intense, which it is, but it may also sound barbaric, which it’s not. We’re just skipping a few steps that others have first, but as long we’ve both landed in the same place, we’re in it together. Our eyes are cultivated for long distance vision; we have those conversations that no one wants to have, and we have them initially. Every topic, every discussion that is generally to be avoided, we force ourselves to have.
And we’re also very similar. Otherwise, we would have never gone on a date in the first place. We grew up in similar communities, in similar homes. Our parents share friends. We went to similar elementary schools and high schools. We share the same holidays, and the same family customs. We envision a similar life for ourselves, and we want to have the same goals.
We don’t always exactly, though. Although looking from the outside we may all look the same, we know the difference. The general alone is not sufficient; the specifics must be aligned too. Although this match may have been thought of with certain algorithms, even the most detailed of formulas does not have as much complexity as a human being. There has to be chemistry, there has to be a comfort and familiarity, and an assured sense that this feels right. And even within a framework of values, there are those of us who have different cornerstones than others. Sense of humor comes into play too. Well, everything comes into play, really, but that’s why we’re dating with a purpose in the first place. We won’t know everything, but we aim to get to a state of certainty where we think we do.
I recently had a conversation with my twenty-five-year-old brother. “Don’t date until you are at least twenty-one”, he told me. “You will be such a different person in two years, you will grow in so many ways.” And then, my all-time favorite, “you don’t even know what your favorite color is yet.”
He is right. I don’t know what my favorite color is. That’s also because I don’t have one. I don’t have a favorite anything, actually. There is too much to see in every color, too much to taste in every flavor of ice cream, that picking one seems so simply juvenile that I would not attempt to do it. So in the world we live in, he’s actually wrong. Not knowing my favorite color doesn’t mean anything about being an individual.
Yet he is right. If someone were to call a friend of mine and ask about me, what would she say? If I were presented with the choice to date me, would I make a positive one? What would make me different from any other person looked at?
I don’t play the guitar, or paint. I don’t sing or act. I don’t take photos or knit scarves. I don’t design clothes or know how to sew. I’m not in college studying archeology. Due to the exorbitant cost, I’m not in college at all. I work a 9-5 office job like most of America and it’s administrative work. Even if I were to be amazing at it, attention to detail and organizational skills are not unique abilities. I spend time with friends, I cook myself dinner. All I am missing is a golden retriever and a white picket fence to make my life perfectly typical.
Yes, I am young. But what exactly am I working towards? Are the phone skills I’m gaining enough to teach me how to make those tough calls? Is being an employee teaching me how to be a good boss? Is seeing people that are so apparently inefficient in their jobs teaching me how to be efficient in mine?
Every mistake I make, every flaw is a lesson. Every mistake someone else makes, every flaw that they have, is a lesson. Every time I am endlessly searching for a way to do something, I should spend just as much time creating a system to make it effortless. Every time I am working on a document, a project, an idea and I hear myself thinking, ‘why isn’t there a simpler way to do this”, I should be working on creating that way. Every time I am curious about something, I should watch an online lecture about it. Innovation can be born from laziness, but it is just as often born from hard work.
At this point, I probably wouldn’t date me. I think that’s okay, though, because as long as I’m not content with the individual that I am now, it means that I’m working towards being someone that I will be.
gummygunk
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
