it’s almost overwhelming to pick what to write about here. it’s a secret little space only myself and my parents know – no secret hater so called friends, no secret hope for the downfall ex situationships and no secret unspoken messages. who knew secrets make things complicated?
let’s start with that word, “complicated”. the dictionary defines it as “hard to understand, explain, or deal with because it has many small parts that connect in a confusing way“. sounds to me that’s just called life.
but i’ve learned the secret to that too. the second you stop trying to understand, explain or deal with those many small parts, is the second it becomes clear. dare i say: simple.
life isn’t about figuring it out, it’s about living. yes it’d be fun to figure out why the secret garden was so dirty or why the word “no” became so hard to understand or why gum wrappers could be so extra. but would you rather watch the last two minutes of a movie with no context or watch the whole thing except for the last two minutes and write your own ending instead?
some will argue with me on that. i do believe in fate and destiny. some stories are written for us but every page is written by us. as they say, the greatest things in life are a paradox.
because this is a secret space, let me bring you in on some of my current context. i have never been in love with a man but my god have i fallen in love with my life. although my dog just died which at first threw a curveball into that love until even his death had me falling deeper, faster. making money as i sit on my bed writing this, hashtag property manager. i’m my most alive teaching on a tennis court, little me never could’ve imagined that authoritative, ballsy confident voice as mine. yet here we are.
let’s get spicier: i have so many laughable ex situations. someone sent me a “most insane dating story” video today and my gosh it was bland compared to mine. like seriously, can you imagine an ugly lying love bomber commenting on the body of a professional athlete all because you wouldn’t sleep with him and then finding out he knowingly had/has an STD and never said? i mean, talk about laughable.
flaming hot: the best human of all my ex situations recently reached out and confessed four years later, he’s still in love with me. i’ll admit he crosses my mind plenty. it’d be so easy to go back, to settle. maybe true love is overrated. relationships work without a spark, right?
but what about the freedom to catch looks from across the room and send em back, what about seeing who you can reel in with one flip of the hair, what about walking events solo and getting anyone you want to come up, what about hidden messages in stories, what about chapstick, what about all those unspoken games that are just so fun to play – what about mystery? the mystery of how the hell is she not taken.
and in that moment, i typed back to that ex the “we can only be friends” let down. because here’s my secret: high standards = happy life. that’s constant elevation. there is nothing more empowering than knowing your worth and standing by it always, without hesitation.
it’s true love – the kind they don’t show you in the movies because only you can write that beginning, middle and end.
-G
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