Being single, one gets the opportunity to reset her bar of her wish list in a potential new mate. When I started this process I had a different list than the one I currently have right now.
To be specific, I started with an actual list. Not an actual list, per se, but I did have a few items that I knew were must haves and would immediately disqualify someone if they didn’t have them. It was a really short list.
But as I’ve been out in the single world as an adult, I’ve learned what is important to me has really morphed over time. Yes, it’s still important to me that whoever I end up with has kids of his own and has a career he’s proud of and energized by. However, I’ve learned that it is equally as important how he interacts with me. One of the single biggest understandings I’ve come to realize about myself occurred just a few days ago. I need to feel loved.
Yes, that sounds certifiably simplistic. Everyone wants to feel loved, no? I mean in at a deeper level though. I have always known it was important to me to have people in my life that care about me. I have always known it was important that it that I felt supported, and that someone had my back. What I never actually realized, however, is how that love and support itself is expressed is also really important to me. What I learned, ultimately, is that I am a romantic.
I have never identified with that term. My vision of a woman who was “romantic” was one who expected to be swept off her feet with flowers and grand gestures. It was the stuff of movies and unsustainable relationships. Like Jack and Rose in Titantic, and Robert and Francesca in Bridges of Madison County. Incredibly intense for a few short days…and then the people or the relationships die. See, clearly, I am not romantic. But am I?
What I realized over the weekend is that I am romantic in a way that makes sense to me. It doesn’t need to be about grandiose gestures. It’s about knowing the person you are with, and finding a way to express how you care about them. That seems to come really easily for me. What I didn’t realize is that I needed it back in some form.
I suppose it comes from a place of wanting the people closest to me to know they matter. For example, the day my kids started going to day care, I started putting notes in their lunch. Yes, even before they could read. I put them in little notebooks, and each note contained a sticker, and was signed with “I love you, Mommy” and a smily face. I still do it every day for them, and I have kept every notebook. One of my corner cabinets is littered with the years of those lunchtime memories.
I have been known to buy my friends or someone I love small treats, or leave random cards, or even just a stupid pinecone, just because. To me, it’s not about price, or showiness. In my mind, it’s just a way to say “I was thinking about you.”
We are all driven by different things. Some women needs jewels to feel loved (don’t get me wrong…this girl loves her some bling too - but it’s sure not what drives me). Some women need to be wined and dined, and squired around the town. I like to think I’m pretty low maintenance, but perhaps I’m not. When it comes down to it, I need to feel like the person I love loves me back. And that takes a little effort on both our parts. You can’t just tell me, you need to show me. And it doesn’t take much. But that, it turns out, is the key to my heart.
I find it utterly fascinating how much I continue to learn about myself this late in life. Better late than to never understand, I suppose.
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