I decided to take my two month vacation and turn it into The Summer of Me. I didn't have travel plans, my sister was fifty-five miles away, and my friends had their own families to take care of. So instead of sulking over my loneliness, I would venture on my own. I had always envied people who dined by themselves so I would just go to P. F. Chang's like I'd been wanting rather than waiting for someone to go with me. I could also visit The Living Desert since no one would be crazy enough to join me in the 100+ degree weather. The idea of waking with the birds, making the long drive as I watched the sun rise, and touring the zoo at my pace seemed peaceful. Since I have friends out there, I could check in with them afterward and see if they'd be available for lunch. If not, I'd just grab a bite by myself. With time on my side, I'd have the schedule to toy with a dating website and take advantage of my friend's Meetup group so I could network and possibly not have to eat alone the entire time I was off.
Summer of me.
The constant pressure of being single drove me to join Match.com. This missing aspect of my life had been sitting heavily in my heart, head, and shoulders for quite some time. Some of it was due to societal pressure, another part came from my own self torture. That is why I had become bitter and anxious. I wasn't even worried about my biological clock anymore. I had gotten past the idea of wanting or having kids and concentrated solely on the companion aspect of a relationship. I wanted someone to come home to, cook, and travel with. Because of this, I was upset my vacation was going to go to waste since I didn't have a boyfriend to explore the world with. So I went against every cell in my body and joined the online trend (Read my explanation here: Where Art Thou?). I was hesitant about whether or not it would work for me because I was going in forcefully with a negative attitude. But I built my profile anyway. The winks, thumbs-up, and messages poured in instantly. The notifications invaded my email, forcing me to scan my matches and read endless profiles that eventually blended together. It seemed like every one of them had kids, were family oriented, and well traveled. They liked to dine out, be outdoors, but also stay home. And they all wanted the same thing--someone goal oriented, adventurous, confident, with a go-with-the-flow kind of attitude. One of those was a firefighter. He was ten years my senior, had three children, the eldest in college, and lived in San Diego. I knew I didn't want to meet him but replied to his messages anyway. Until one of his questions stopped me in my tracks.
"What is important to you?"
Summer of me.
The firefighter had rambled so easily about his kids, career, side job, and family as being important to him. But I couldn't think of a single answer. Not one significant thing popped into my head. It was the first time I felt inadequate as a partner, even to a hypothetical one. For so long, I had deemed myself driven, successful, and independent but wasn't so sure I believed that anymore. My family and job were obviously important but I didn't want to give the run-of-the-mill kind of answer. I loved my car but was disgusted at how materialistic and immature that would sound to a heroic family man. Firefighter message aside, I dug deep, determined to find a unique response that was real and true to me. After a moment, I conjured up a list that included writing, taking care of my body, and learning to cook healthier. Embarrassed and apologetic for what I took to be a juvenile response, I clicked Send. Dissatisfied with my ability to answer, his question, "What is important to you," played in my head like a CD programmed to repeat.
Summer of me.
I met with a man from Match for a hike, another for dinner, and a third professed his love to me. None of them made my anxiety go away. I worried because I was shedding pounds as fast as I did when I ended my eleven-year relationship. I was moping around my apartment playing, "What is important to you," for the second day in a row when I walked past my bathroom. I caught sight of a book, The Opposite of Loneliness, that sat on top of the toilet tank and I thought, I need to start reading again. And following immediately after, I need to start writing. Suddenly, a sense of urgency came over me that made me question my recent hobbies. Facebook? Match.com? Really? What the hell was I doing wasting my life away on those useless, self-deprecating, narcissistic, egocentric websites? I needed to read articles about writing and find a publisher for the short story I'd written a few months ago so I could put my MFA to work and finally become an author.
Summer of me.
It was quickly unveiled how consumed I had become for the desire, need, and want of a husband. I had practically internalized this search where ever I went: on the road, at the store, in the supermarket, at restaurants, at the clubs, on the street, in my apartment complex, during hikes. My goodness! I had turned into an obsessed, miserable freak. I envied couples, young and old, for having a special someone, even if just a temporary one. And I often wondered why I wasn't worthy of the happiness my friends seemed to have by having found their significant others. After all, I'd been a good girl who followed the rules my entire life. The only place left unscathed by my deranged ways had been online. That's why I joined Match. I wasn't excited at the idea of meeting people via a website. It was just my last resort. But it felt like another job and I didn't want to work during my time off. Rather than looking forward to AllThatAndMore69's messages, I cringed at notifications and replies from my so-called matches. I dismissed my repulsed reactions as not having found "The Right One" yet and thought I'd change my tune when I finally made a connection with a more "Special Someone." But it wasn't the lack of a guy in my life that had me miserable and anxious. The book in my bathroom had made it crystal freaking clear. I simply wasn't happy with myself. I had lost all focus of my personal goals and dreams, like that of writing and publishing a book. I had let go of what was important to me only to be able to check off the next item on a to-do list I had created in my late teens. I had accomplished receiving a BA and MFA. Marriage was next. I had long followed this plan that it didn't occurr to me to adapt, change, or edit it after my break-up .
Summer of me.
I was ready to rewrite that list. I was done with the stupid husband tunnel vision. Instead, I was going to start reading because it helped my craft. I was going to start writing and looking into publishers I could send my short story to. That meant rejection letters were in my future but I didn't care because I'd be following my dream. I was going to learn to cook healthy chicken recipes so I could have ample delicious options to choose from by the time I went back to work. I was going to continue hitting the gym with a focus on ridding of my belly fat so my six-pack could come through. And I would look into learning to use the 4x4 gears in my Jeep so I could take my baby off-roading like she was meant to. That was my new list. It was short but those were the things that were important to me at the moment. I knew now that I could always go back and add, change, or delete items to meet my heart's desire.
Summer of me.
I logged on to Match.com and changed the settings. I did not want any more notifications sent to my email. I checked my Yahoo account frequently for deals, friendly messages, and housing listings and did not want notices from so-called matches to get in the way of my productive days. Once the month I had paid for was over, I'd cancel my membership. Until then, I'd check the site sparingly.
Summer of me.
I don't think it was a coincidence that two of my former high school friends contacted me on the day of my revelation. They're both married now so there wasn't that creepy notion that they were looking to hook up. One of them invited me on a hike since he knew that was one of my favorite pastimes. The other suggested we go off-roading. And thus my happiness began. I had barely changed my attitude and without effort, some of the important things were already coming to me. Diego would help me maintain my body and health and Gabe would give me my first off-roading lesson. It made me happy to know that my old friends still thought about me despite their busy lives. It was even better that they knew me so well to suggest interests that I loved. I was elated to see them again after YEARS. To think that I had been so worried at the beginning of my vacation about not having anybody to hang out with. Now here I was, attracting friends and meaningful activities because I had changed my attitude, because I had refocused my life back to ME.
Summer of me.
I provided the following advice to a friend many times before: You'll never be able to make someone happy unless you are happy yourself. It's obvious now that I wasn't practicing what I was preaching. But that's because I thought I was content. After all, I had my degrees, a career, a savings account, and my dream car. What else did I have yet to accomplish? Finding a man to make my boyfriend to become my husband, of course. Mr. Right would solve my problems by contributing to my housing budget and being the companion I wanted for travel. But I was mistaken. Because these were all the wrong reasons why anyone should want a husband. Because I was just looking for a tool, not a partner, to help me check off items on a list, a list that had long expired, a list whose contents I hadn't realized were not longer important to me.
Summer of me.
"What is important to you?" That was the simple question that led me to refocus on the important things to me. I will find happiness, not by measure of accomplishment, but by the continuous pursue of dreams I will continue to have throughout my life. And if a man with similar ambitions and work ethic comes along the way, then maybe he can be a candidate to be the one to steal my heart. He'll have to aid and motivate me always just as I know now I will too.
Summer of me.
With a renewed perspective, I sat on my under-utilized couch and did something that didn't come easily to me: I relaxed. I watched a talent show with my portable devices out of reach and even laughed out loud a couple of times with the audience. Then I went to bed and watched a movie. I fell asleep happy, eager to get to work on the important things in my life.
"What is important to you?"
Summer of me.
The firefighter had rambled so easily about his kids, career, side job, and family as being important to him. But I couldn't think of a single answer. Not one significant thing popped into my head. It was the first time I felt inadequate as a partner, even to a hypothetical one. For so long, I had deemed myself driven, successful, and independent but wasn't so sure I believed that anymore. My family and job were obviously important but I didn't want to give the run-of-the-mill kind of answer. I loved my car but was disgusted at how materialistic and immature that would sound to a heroic family man. Firefighter message aside, I dug deep, determined to find a unique response that was real and true to me. After a moment, I conjured up a list that included writing, taking care of my body, and learning to cook healthier. Embarrassed and apologetic for what I took to be a juvenile response, I clicked Send. Dissatisfied with my ability to answer, his question, "What is important to you," played in my head like a CD programmed to repeat.
Summer of me.
I met with a man from Match for a hike, another for dinner, and a third professed his love to me. None of them made my anxiety go away. I worried because I was shedding pounds as fast as I did when I ended my eleven-year relationship. I was moping around my apartment playing, "What is important to you," for the second day in a row when I walked past my bathroom. I caught sight of a book, The Opposite of Loneliness, that sat on top of the toilet tank and I thought, I need to start reading again. And following immediately after, I need to start writing. Suddenly, a sense of urgency came over me that made me question my recent hobbies. Facebook? Match.com? Really? What the hell was I doing wasting my life away on those useless, self-deprecating, narcissistic, egocentric websites? I needed to read articles about writing and find a publisher for the short story I'd written a few months ago so I could put my MFA to work and finally become an author.
Summer of me.
It was quickly unveiled how consumed I had become for the desire, need, and want of a husband. I had practically internalized this search where ever I went: on the road, at the store, in the supermarket, at restaurants, at the clubs, on the street, in my apartment complex, during hikes. My goodness! I had turned into an obsessed, miserable freak. I envied couples, young and old, for having a special someone, even if just a temporary one. And I often wondered why I wasn't worthy of the happiness my friends seemed to have by having found their significant others. After all, I'd been a good girl who followed the rules my entire life. The only place left unscathed by my deranged ways had been online. That's why I joined Match. I wasn't excited at the idea of meeting people via a website. It was just my last resort. But it felt like another job and I didn't want to work during my time off. Rather than looking forward to AllThatAndMore69's messages, I cringed at notifications and replies from my so-called matches. I dismissed my repulsed reactions as not having found "The Right One" yet and thought I'd change my tune when I finally made a connection with a more "Special Someone." But it wasn't the lack of a guy in my life that had me miserable and anxious. The book in my bathroom had made it crystal freaking clear. I simply wasn't happy with myself. I had lost all focus of my personal goals and dreams, like that of writing and publishing a book. I had let go of what was important to me only to be able to check off the next item on a to-do list I had created in my late teens. I had accomplished receiving a BA and MFA. Marriage was next. I had long followed this plan that it didn't occurr to me to adapt, change, or edit it after my break-up .
Summer of me.
I was ready to rewrite that list. I was done with the stupid husband tunnel vision. Instead, I was going to start reading because it helped my craft. I was going to start writing and looking into publishers I could send my short story to. That meant rejection letters were in my future but I didn't care because I'd be following my dream. I was going to learn to cook healthy chicken recipes so I could have ample delicious options to choose from by the time I went back to work. I was going to continue hitting the gym with a focus on ridding of my belly fat so my six-pack could come through. And I would look into learning to use the 4x4 gears in my Jeep so I could take my baby off-roading like she was meant to. That was my new list. It was short but those were the things that were important to me at the moment. I knew now that I could always go back and add, change, or delete items to meet my heart's desire.
Summer of me.
I logged on to Match.com and changed the settings. I did not want any more notifications sent to my email. I checked my Yahoo account frequently for deals, friendly messages, and housing listings and did not want notices from so-called matches to get in the way of my productive days. Once the month I had paid for was over, I'd cancel my membership. Until then, I'd check the site sparingly.
Summer of me.
I don't think it was a coincidence that two of my former high school friends contacted me on the day of my revelation. They're both married now so there wasn't that creepy notion that they were looking to hook up. One of them invited me on a hike since he knew that was one of my favorite pastimes. The other suggested we go off-roading. And thus my happiness began. I had barely changed my attitude and without effort, some of the important things were already coming to me. Diego would help me maintain my body and health and Gabe would give me my first off-roading lesson. It made me happy to know that my old friends still thought about me despite their busy lives. It was even better that they knew me so well to suggest interests that I loved. I was elated to see them again after YEARS. To think that I had been so worried at the beginning of my vacation about not having anybody to hang out with. Now here I was, attracting friends and meaningful activities because I had changed my attitude, because I had refocused my life back to ME.
Summer of me.
I provided the following advice to a friend many times before: You'll never be able to make someone happy unless you are happy yourself. It's obvious now that I wasn't practicing what I was preaching. But that's because I thought I was content. After all, I had my degrees, a career, a savings account, and my dream car. What else did I have yet to accomplish? Finding a man to make my boyfriend to become my husband, of course. Mr. Right would solve my problems by contributing to my housing budget and being the companion I wanted for travel. But I was mistaken. Because these were all the wrong reasons why anyone should want a husband. Because I was just looking for a tool, not a partner, to help me check off items on a list, a list that had long expired, a list whose contents I hadn't realized were not longer important to me.
Summer of me.
"What is important to you?" That was the simple question that led me to refocus on the important things to me. I will find happiness, not by measure of accomplishment, but by the continuous pursue of dreams I will continue to have throughout my life. And if a man with similar ambitions and work ethic comes along the way, then maybe he can be a candidate to be the one to steal my heart. He'll have to aid and motivate me always just as I know now I will too.
Summer of me.
With a renewed perspective, I sat on my under-utilized couch and did something that didn't come easily to me: I relaxed. I watched a talent show with my portable devices out of reach and even laughed out loud a couple of times with the audience. Then I went to bed and watched a movie. I fell asleep happy, eager to get to work on the important things in my life.
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