My mom has been dating for a while.
And so have I, without luck.
I want to be like my mom. Free. Happy. And independent. She’s so in her own lane that there’s such an unobvious rift whenever someone new is introduced. She’s so, herself. Her spirit is nomadic in that sense. Free, and so herself that moving on to something new isn’t anything new.
Yet why do I feel, so badly, to want to be married? To be with someone under a vow of forever? Is it something my ancestors wanted so badly because it guaranteed a successor? Or because we have been so withheld from real love that we crave it that much more? It keeps me guessing. I wake up nervous that I’ll be alone forever even though I know there’s love all around me.
Disclaimer— I love myself and I love what I can do for myself. But I want to be able to share what I have with someone too. Maybe I’m not great at everything but maybe I can pick up on what they have and can do, and vice versa, and we can live vicariously through each other in each other’s abundance. To share each other’s essence. Hang out.
I dream of an innocent love so stable and consistent that marriage is the easiest answer.