A few years back I broke up with a kind hearted gentleman whom by any straight female terms was the perfect man only to later fall into the arms of a different man who was only occasionally kind hearted and made Beetlejuice look like the Prince of England. Now, you may be thinking what would possess a woman in this day and age to break up with a perfectly normal, respectable man who never cheated on her or looked at other women (or men for that matter..gotta cover my bases..) when they are as rare as a golden ticket you might find in a Willy Wonka chocolate bar. Well, I happen to be a classic example of a twenty five year old commitment phob. I, however, up until recently had never had such a fantastical realization. I believed, as many idealistic young women do, that I would find the perfect man, my own prince charming, and be instantly falling over myself in love and contentment. We would live happily ever after in our two-story house, picket fenced yard with our two point five children.
However, as we all know life does not always follow suit.
Although it's one of my favorite childhood movies (and perhaps that's the real problem) I can’t help but blame Grease for my coming of age dilemmas. You may be wondering why Grease and not some fairy tale romance to the likings of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty would cause me to wind up with such an oxymoronic predicament as being a commitment phobic hopeless romantic. Grease, with its cast of high school somebodies and its sexually driven catchy pop culture spew of songs, made me believe as a wide eyed twelve year old that I should have found my soul mate by the time I was a senior in high school. A tall order if you ask one gawky tomboy sixth grader as I happened to be at the time of consuming this pop culture phenomena. After the 15th replay of Danny and Sandy's rendition of "Summer Nights" and "You're the One that I Want" I was officially a lifetime member of Gen Y-ers that subscribed to the belief of “soul” mates.
For whatever reason, and I trust God’s plan in this, at 25 years old I still have yet to find the man who will kick my commitment phobic butt into long term planning mode, my very own Danny Zuko. Despite the lack of a diamond on my ring finger I find myself in a place of comfort and contentment. I am comforted because I realized that if shopping for china or picking out colors for a baby room is not in the stars, I am still surrounded by the most genuinely thoughtful and caring friends a girl could ask for. These women have shown me enough love and undying support to make up for the picket fence and half a child I am currently void of.
I may not have yet found my mate, but I am one lucky lady because I have found six very beautiful souls.
(Left to Right: Claudia, Leah, Megan, Samantha, Me (Lindsey), Courtney, Annie)
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