Sunday, January 6, 2013


Neither of us looked at the other.  Instead, we stared at the game on the television to the right of us, a re-run of a game that had taken place earlier in the day, and clung to our beers for security.

"I want to be on your list."

We paused for a beer filler. I felt like the conversation should have been more awkward than it was.  Maybe it was the beer.  Maybe it was his uncanny ability to remain unfazed.  In any case, I was relatively at ease and sensed the feeling was mutual.

"What do you mean?"

We stared idly at the game.

"I know you're not dating right now."

"No, I'm not."

"But someday you will be.  And when you are, I want to be on your list.  I want to be on your list of women you consider when you are."

He rocked his bottle back and took a sip.

"It's not that you're complicated, but. . ."

It would be only the first time I would be told I am complicated.  Whatever that means.

"You can't just tell people that you're interested in them," a friend later admonished me.

I crinkled my nose.

"Why not?"

"You just can't.  You just can't come right out and tell someone that.  You'll freak people out."

"That's absurd.  If I didn't say it, how would he ever know?"

The conversation never did result in what I wanted.  But it didn't really ruin anything either.  There had been, up to that point, a looming elephant in the room and the conversation remedied that.  Had I not said anything at all, the result would unlikely have been any different.  In speaking up I assured that I had said what was on my mind, pursued what I wanted, and the rest was out of my hands.  As a woman who seeks control, there's nothing quite like seizing the opportunity to take control by lobbing the ball into someone else's court.  What more can we do, after all?

I don't really think I'm that complicated.  Complicated things have happened to me, it's true, and I have complicated residual feelings about those events.  I doubt the feelings would be any less complicated in a year or even in eight years - not an arbitrary number.  Ultimately, though, I'm a simple girl who knows what she wants and will put up a good, hard fight to get it. Life is short -- too short to pussyfoot around.

My life is full of friends and family and comfort and then some.  Some things are decidedly missing, though.  Perhaps it's selfish to want more on top of what I've already got but my goals are not complicated:  I want loving, romantic companionship and ultimately, a family of my own, and I will charge ahead to find what I want.

Tonight in an interesting, upside-down turn of events someone said it again:  "I like you so much, but you scare me because you're complicated."

I shrugged.  I'm not.  I think, given some of the events in my life, I'm just about the least complex person I know and just about every behavior I engage in can be easily explained away.  From my need for control; to my desire to take charge; to my even more pressing need to take charge now; to my fear of missing something and everything; to my deep longing to find love again - It is all the simple product of my unique circumstances.  The question is only who is up to the task of tolerating me, looking past what's complicated, caring for me, and even loving me in spite of all of that.

It's really not that complicated.

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