I have this movie about my life reeling in my head. It's really depressing and no one would ever want to watch it but me. Anyway, it's comprised of several events in my life that I consider movie moments. Not anything extraordinary. Rather inconsequential actually, but just a little bit off the regular.
I had just turned off the lights, and crawled into bed with him. The room is warm, silent, comfortable... and I put my arms around him. My clothes feel better on him.
Did you know you talk in your sleep?
Oh yeah sometimes, I reply. Did I say something stupid?
No. You asked me to be your boyfriend.
Shut up. No, I didn't.
No, really.
Really?
Yeah... I don't think you're that type either.
We laid there awkwardly for a while. I had met him a week earlier. Then he started to fall asleep and I hugged him tighter.
Don't go to sleep, I urged.
Why?
... I'm so lonely.
Just keep talking. I'm right here. And he passes out.
I've lately been trying to understand the my-age-old question of why I don't have a boyfriend, even though I seemingly want one (and apparently seemingly don't). However in the past, I've limited it to surface level things. Like my hair is too puffy. Or my cheeks are too fat. My voice is too soft, etc. etc. Now, I wonder if the cosmos is a better source of understanding.
In high school, I developed a motto: we are exactly the people that we want to be. Given that you're not just too afraid to do what you really want, I feel like this is a fair assumption. Although, fear drives more of our lives than I think we'd like to admit. But in general, you end up with the people you end up with because that's who makes you happy.
I had been trying to be a perfect people. Surrounded by them, it's a little bit hard to feel confident as an outsider. Everyone has some crazy expensive degree. Everyone is a banker or a consultant or some kind of convoluted form of business strategist that I will never truly comprehend, even if Berkeley taught a course on Deciphering Job Titles in Corporate Earth. It's easy to feel lost, among the crisp suits, nightclub gear consisting solely of clean striped button up shirts and dark jeans or slacks. They are slim on accessories and heavy on pedigree. In a small wine bar next to Tomorrow Square I have a conversation with Max, while admittedly trying desperately to look nonchalant.
He tells me there's parts of this he loves and parts of this he loathes. He loves hanging out with good friends and loathes the networking. I decided today that I grew up when I started accepting people's business cards as a way of weaving together a social life. I also decided that it was distasteful. Whipping out the card saves you about 30 seconds as opposed to taking out your phone and taking the time to save it in your book.... that's 30 seconds you could use to hit up other contacts at the gathering. I know some people are just lazy and aren't actually vultures looking to peck at the fatty flesh of the corporate carcass, but I decided to not let other people confuse me for the latter.
So then I lament to Max about not fitting in. And he says, no you don't... My heart sinks a little. But in a way, you also do. I give my eyebrow a lift. You're also smart, he says. I think for a bit... Is that what ties me to these people? And is that even enough? In a room filled with smart people, I've learned that I'm off-smart. Not the kind that gets you hired, but the kind that let's you get away with things that a lot of people don't normally get away with. But I wonder exactly how off am I.
I like to think that I have a lot of attractive qualities. It is not my intent to be boastful, but I think I do. Someone recently told me I was funny, good-looking and smart. I instantly fell in love with him but that's beside the point. They seem like pretty good qualities to have. Indeed, almost enough to make me one of those perfect people I've been trying to be. I am on the cusp of resubmitting my resume Google or McKinsey. I really, really want to be able to like Obama. I long to be normal, because at times those qualities only seem to shine when they are at stage center. Offstage, they brood, melt-together, bubble as they wait for their turn. If you're only off-funny, off-handsome and off-smart you've got to work hard to turn some heads, because most people won't give you credit for what you are because your formula is untested. I don't give myself enough credit either.
I want to be perfect, but I want to be a perfect me. And I don't fit into the mold. Perhaps those I should truly be jealous of are the outsiders who manage to figure out at a very young age exactly where on the outside they want to be. Oh, what a luxury that would be.
Sometimes I dream of having my own perfect boyfriend, but then I wonder.... will I stay? Will I ever believe that they love me for who I am? Maybe the main reason I don't have a boyfriend right now is because I'm not ready to accept anyone's love. After all, who are they to love me... when I am just starting to get there myself?
