Saturday, July 2, 2011
Day 188: In The Navy
These look pretty black in this picture, however, I assure you they are navy blue in person.
I have spent the last 8 months reading Jane Austen's books. I take them slow. I read other books simultaneously, as well. I mean, I don't read them literally at the same time, but you get what I'm saying. From reading all this Jane Austen though I panicked yesterday because I felt that I am getting to that age where soon I'll be "too old" to date/get married. Like it's inevitable that once I pass a certain age I will become a crazy cat lady, whether I want it or not. I came to the realization that I could have wrinkles before I meet the guy that I'll eventually marry. Anyone that knows me, knows that I worry about everything. All the time. So this thought, got me into an in-my-head-panic:
"What if I do have wrinkles? What if he hates my wrinkles? What kind of eye creams should I start using to avoid wrinkles? Maybe wrinkles are sexy because you can tell that I laugh a lot? What if I use the appropriate eye creams to get rid of wrinkles and then I find out he likes wrinkles and I should have left my face alone?"
I know these are ridiculous fears, because, well, who even cares?! However in panic moments such as those, it takes me a few minutes to calm down. Krista helped, with her text stating: "Thinking about that BS is what's giving you wrinkles...just so you know."
I fully realize and accept that my own strange anxieties get the best of me sometimes.
I also fully realize and accept that I have no control over when, where or how I'll meet the guy that becomes my next boyfriend.
Later on in the day I was thinking about it some more, and I thought that the whole thing was a bit ridiculous. I have been successfully and (mainly) happily single for the last five years. Five years is a long time. I know a lot more about myself than I would have known had I been intently chasing down relationships in the same time frame. I have career goals, life goals, financial goals, none of which depend on anyone else in the entire world. I am an independent person. Yes, it's nice when boys open car doors, but when something major happens in my life, I don't look to anyone but myself to fix it. I am content.
So, really, I don't care if in Jane Austen's time 25 was "too old". One day I'll meet someone that I care enough about to date -- and he sure as heck will be the one that initiates.
Until then, me being me and doing my own thing is sufficient for my happiness.