Conclusions reached by letter-writing

Remember [sic.] that guy? He’s the one I daydreamed about doing dirty things to? SIDE NOTE: Yes daydreamed because I’ve reached the conclusion that when it comes to sex, I just don’t get wet for anyone but Rob. And what’s the point of daydreaming about doing someone if I won’t actually do them?

NEXT SIDE NOTE: *NEWSFLASH!* Holy crap, I’m pretty much married. And I LIKE it… Who the fuck am I?!

*breathing deeply*

Okay, yeah…  Well, he asked me out. [sic.] That guy. Kind of. I think. I dunno, the Filipino way of doing things slightly throws me off center. Plus I’m not interested in pursuing anything, so I’m not putting much effort into figuring out what he meant. Never mind that he’s probably interested in pursuing something with me on the off-chance that I’ll put out and also give in to bringing him to the States. My gut tells me that I could make this man my emotional slave if I wanted to…

But whatever.

Here’s the part that’s making my head spin. I’m not at all curious. I don’t feel the need to stroke my ego with a love slave. When I realized that I could possibly be getting laid here on the regular, I actually dried up knowing that it’s only possible with someone who isn’t Rob.

Speaking of Rob, he’s been throwing around the “M” word. A lot. Marriage, I mean… We talk about his move to the Philippines, and he keeps on asking if I want to get married in the Philippines (cuz we can afford a big ta-da over here), or if I’d rather wait till we move back to NYC (of course! I want all my fam/friends there!). And we’re constantly talking about having another baby and planning things financially for another baby and tuition and a wedding and…. holy crackwhore! I think I’ve reached an entirely new plateau of living. It’s not even a “stage”, it’s like a brand-new space in the universe.

Up until recently, I didn’t feel so certain about marriage. I was afraid that my dad’s steak of infidelity was hereditary, or at least too deeply ingrained into my subconscious to stop myself from giving in to temptation. I had all these fantasies about being the wild woman that no one could tame; having kids with a smattering of guys so that my family resembled a grouping of ambassadors from the United Nations; thinking that “I’m too good to settle down, or settle for anything really.”

But now it’s all changed. Now I realize that all of those feelings were only symptoms of fear; I wasn’t yet ready to grow up and take responsibility for a set way of life. Now I understand and empathize with the need to be anchored by something substantial. Having my life set by something real, and heavy, and meaningful is suddenly a real draw for me.

I’m trying not to be a snotty and self-righteous asshole who’s constantly looking down on people for not having reached this conclusion, but it’s so hard. I’m fortified with a sense of well-being that’s so awesome, I sometimes forget that other people may feel this way from living another kind of life. It boggles my mind to remember what life was like a year ago, and remember how thrilling and amazing and wild and crazy and hectic it all seemed – and how much I thrived on all the hysteria.

I feel like the Old Maria would spend sleepless nights wondering about the implications of all these changes. The New Maria, however, has other priorities. I’m not so much concerned with why I’m doing things, rather than feeling secure in my desire to want to do them and following through with them. I’m finding it’s a lot easier to accomplish my goals when I’m not tripping over my own slow & lagging/suspicious/skeptical feet.

I realize that this is what I want: something so purely figured into the American Dream that I’ve always felt certain that me – nonconformist, off-the-wall, hard-wired-to-self-implode-if-confronted-with-mediocrity Me – couldn’t possibly want it. I wanted, first and foremost, a challenge. I wanted to be certain that I didn’t want something because society made me want them. I wanted to make sure that I’d experienced EVERYTHING POSSIBLE before making up my mind about how I wanna live…

I still want those things, but now I’m of the mind-set that the most challenging goal is to be comfortable. Really comfortable. Not just wealthy, but healthy and loved and surrounded by goodness of every kind. I want to feel valuable and special. I want a life where I never have to worry about the State of the World (because I’m doing something about improving it), or not having fulfilled my potential (because I’m actively working on it), or never having succeeded (because I realize that what/who I am is a success). That kind of comfort is rare and a worthy challenge to my time and effort.

Maybe it’s a cop-out that my life all of a sudden fits the white-picket-fence template more than it ever has before. Or maybe I’ve simply exhausted every other option, and have come to the conclusion that this way of life, for me, for now, is what I want and need. Maybe it just so happens to look all white-picket-fence to me, but to most people, starting a family out-of-wedlock, moving overseas to a third-world country, fulfilling artistic potential, and general traveling-the-world-while-fulfilling-personal-potential and being a responsible/respectable/outrageous/spontaneous/caring/socially active individual is the farthest thing from the norm.

Or maybe both are versions of the “ideal” and I’ve simply found my niche in the world.

Wow. The ideal.

I think I’m fulfilling my version of the ideal. I think I’ve found where I fit. I think I’m immeasurably happy.

My world is satisfyingly full of awesomeness.

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2 responses to “Conclusions reached by letter-writing

  1. i just wanetd to let you know that I’ve read this, and am working on reading the rest. It’s really big. The mental equivalent to someone throwing a grapefruit into my sandbox. I gotta wrap around it before I can reply.

    You could imagine what my face would look like if i was sitting in front of you, right? lolol. love you m. talk to you in a little bit.

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