Emotion Explosion!

It's late, and I should be in bed. But I can't sleep. I had planned on writing a fun, carefree post tonight about ice cream, actually, but instead I remembered I had to finish some things up for work. That opened the floodgates for a range of emotions. I feel frustrated, angry, and sad. And for whatever reason, all I can think about writing is my take on love and my idea of what romance should be.

Let me back up.

I'm single, and the thing I want the very most in this world is to be a wife and a mother. I want to pack lunches in the morning, bake cookies for afternoon snacks, talk to my kids like they have worthwhile things to say, and chase those same kids around the house while laughing. I want to tell my husband I love him everyday, and I want to make sure my kids know that I do. I want to keep a clean house for my husband, make him feel needed, and do odd jobs or work from home to make the additional income it takes to go on small vacations or make Christmas extra-special. I cook. I bake. I'm mostly obsessively clean. I read. I think. I take out the trash. I ask interesting questions. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. I take care of my physical appearance. I'm not flashy or trendy or extremely fashionable, but I'm not "high-maintenance," and what a man sees is what he gets. I go to church and pray and help people when I can. I try to meet new people and make them feel comfortable and welcome, if they're new. I knit. I can sew a button onto something, and I can draw. I like to walk, hike, and be outside. I like to go to live sporting events and concerts, large or small. I like to listen to people talk about themselves and play musical instruments to their heart's content.

In short, I am a veritable picture-perfect wife- and mother-to-be. Scratch that, I am a model human being. Sure, I have problems and imperfections and faults, like any other person. All in all, though, I'm pretty good.

But I'm tired of people telling me I'm great. Friends, family, and acquaintances all say the same thing after they get to know me for a short while: "You're great, Sara." Guy friends say, "You're great. I just love you."

It reminds me of a joke Jerry Seinfeld used to tell about being the best man in a wedding party. "If I'm the best man, why is she marrying him?" For me, that statement rings all too true. Now, I don't think that the natural consequence of greatness is getting married, nor do I think that a single life is meaningless. But like I said, I do want to get married and have children.

Here's the thing, though: I don't expect a one, true love. I don't want a man to say I've "bewitched [him], body and soul," as Mr. Darcy tells Elizabeth Bennett in the new Pride & Prejudice. (I think that is the stupidest line in the history of movies.) All I want is for someone to get to know me enough to say, "You're great, Sara. You're great, and I love you. And I want to be around you forever. There are other great people in this world, and I could choose one of them and life would be wonderful. But I want to be around you! I never want to not know where you are and what you're doing."

That's far more romantic than, "You've bewitched me" (i.e., You've tricked me into loving you). It's saying, "Not only do I think you're great; I think you're great, and I always want you to be in my life." Love is a choice, not a compulsion, and I want someone to choose me. Is that too much to ask?

I don't want other people to tell me I'm great, either. I know I am; it doesn't help anything. Tell possible suitors you think I'm great. Tell me what I need to work on to be better . . .


Thing I'm thankful for: yeast and dough that rises.