subject line: settled



I thought I was over it. I thought I was okay and settled for adventure and traveling and friends and the kind of love that isn’t about me.
I guess I’m not.
The truth is, I still want it all. I still want someone to hold my hand. I still want to slow dance in my own kitchen. I still want the white dress, the vows. I still want to make love and babies too. I still want more than this.
I’m getting older. I’m not old, but I’m older. Most my friends are married now. I go to drinks and dinner parties and halfway through I look around and realize that I’m the only one alone. I’m not the only one who notices. I see their glances full of pity. I can sense their sorrow.
I don’t want their pity or sorrow. I like my life. I like the liberties I have and how I can still do spontaneous things and I don’t have to worry about being irresponsible. I fly across the world and explore. I can volunteer all my saturdays at the old folks home and every evening with homeless kids. Other people can’t do that. Other women have to make dinner.

I would though.
I would like a husband to make dinner for.

I’d give up some of those Saturdays. I’d come home early sometimes. I’d not get on the plane.