Right now I am holding a dream of my past, a ticket. To most people it is just a piece of paper that allows you access to an event, but for me this is a glorious, almighty, success of the ten year old Me. This slip of paper that is sitting next to me on my white wood desk, is a ticket to meet the man I was convinced would be my husband from the ages of eight to twelve, Nick Jonas.
I honestly hadn’t given a thought to the Jonas Brothers in years. They had completely fell off of my radar back into a little piece of my mind that stores all of the unnecessary information that I have long forgotten about. I honestly had convinced myself that my obsession was over and I was never going to care what they had to offer, I was done. But then came along a pesky little radio advertisement that caught my attention. Nick Jonas was coming to the Bing Lounge on Tuesday and they were giving away tickets. Before I could even comprehend what I was doing I pulled out my one true love, my iPhone 5s, and was texting a code word to the number they provided. I could not believe I just did that! I don’t even care about Nick Jonas any more. Why would I still feel the need to go see him? He is like an old teddy bear that I donated to charity four years ago and completely forgot about, until now.
I honestly didn’t really think I was going to get this ticket. I don’t really want this ticket, I don’t really need this ticket, but I have this infuriating ticket sitting next to me at the moment and I am not quite sure how I feel about it. I sent in one keyword, which is nothing compared to the excruciating hours of last summer I spent sending thousands of keywords to win Ed Sheeran tickets. I am trying to think my options through reasonably and I believe that I have one option at this point.
I am going to meet Nick Jonas, if not for me, than for the younger Me who spent years listening to his music that I found to be the the greatest thing on the planet at the time being, for the Me who would spend countless hours choreographing less than mediocre dances to his music and performing them to her family, to the Me who would have daily conversations with her friends about which brother was the cutest or what our favorite song off the new album was, and to the Me who is still anxiously jumping up and down in circles somewhere in my soul, begging me to meet the boy she hopelessly wished she would someday have the pleasure of marrying.
This ticket that I hold in my hand is so much more than an entry slip. The sixteen year old Me that is here now doesn’t care about Nick Jonas, as shocking as that may seem. I came to my senses long ago and moved on from the Nick Jonas road stop, and come through so many new stages in my life, but there is a part of me that will always be stuck in my Jonas Brother phase. Maybe if I go to meet him the ten year old me will finally be able to silence her adorable self. I’m not totally convinced she will though.
This ticket is my chance to finally complete a task on my ten year old self’s bucket list. So I am embracing my opportunity
