Yesterday afternoon someone asked me why I wanted to buy a house. I explained all the reasons I have been gathering together for two years. That list of good, happy, excited reasons that I have been simmering and steaming, waiting for a time when it would boil over to drown the fears and other negatives underneath. In my excitement I showed them pictures of a house I love. I told them about all the changes I would make and the amazingness that would occur in the house and in my heart once it was mine. They listened, they nodded, they kindly chuckled at the right times; then they said something they probably felt was very practical and helpful. “What happens if you meet someone that you want to marry and you’re stuck with a house?”
This calls for more sugar reduction: less dusting with pretty words, more visibility of my soul, because I want to be as clear as possible. The very last thing I am waiting on, is a fucking man to give my life meaning. I refuse to press pause on my life and sit in silence. I will not and cannot live my life in expectation of “what if”. Let’s set aside the fact that I am fairly slow moving on big decisions and therefore wouldn’t marry someone I just met. What if I meet someone tomorrow and fall madly in love and we move to the freakin’ alps and I have to turn around and sell the house I just bought?
Who gives a shit? Really. Because also on the list of what if is “what if I never meet my person and I am single forever?” If that’s the case, then why the hell would I sit and wait for something that is never going to exist? That isn’t a real pleasant alternative, so you know what? I am choosing to ignore both options.
There’s a quote in EAT Pray love that I’m going to share with you because there’s no way I can word better than Liz Gilbert.
“There’s a wonderful old Italian joke about a poor man who goes to church every day and prays before the statue of a great saint, begging, “Dear saint-please, please, please…give me the grace to win the lottery.” This lament goes on for months. Finally the exasperated statue comes to life, looks down at the begging man and says in weary disgust, “My son-please, please, please…buy a ticket.”
Sitting in my apartment hoping, praying, waiting, that my life will grow is like asking to win the lottery but never buying a ticket. Waiting on “what if” isn’t going to bring me any kind of happiness. Maybe my “hard-headedness” as it has been labeled, makes people uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for that. I’m somewhat impatient for change, and forcefully independent. But I’m also smart, and careful, (and humble) and if by hard headed you meant that I know what I want and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it, then yes. You’re exactly right. I am hard headed. So thank you for your concern, but I am not waiting on a kind gentleman to sweep me off my feet so that I can begin to grow the way I want to. Maybe I will meet someone at some veiled, foggy, indefinite curve along the road, and guess what? If I do, I’ll be happy, free, and fulfilled on my own because I haven’t stopped my motion to wait for him to travel down the road to me. I won’t have sat stewing in frustration that it has taken him so long to come from his distant abyss to find me, we will be meeting in the middle. I’ll be able to offer more to this other person because I have let myself grow the way I felt called. I’ll be a whole person by myself, not half a person until I meet him. Our two parts when put together will be greater than 100 percent because of it, and I think that is truly awesome.