Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Dallas does...singlehood.

There is nothing more powerful than being single.
Okay, okay, okay, before you throw the fact that I love love in my face, just hear me out. Yes, I would enjoy nothing more than to be crazy in love with the man of my dreams right now, but as a twenty-year-old sassy young wordsmith, there are worse things to be than flyin' solo.
For one thing, I have become a master architect of Kelsey-friendly evenings. Sure, it's nice to have a healthy supply of friends to turn to when I get sick of the quiet life. But mostly I enjoy the beauty of an evening spent in dork city with my mamacita and/or bearded dog.
Being single has completely revolutionized the way I experience Kelseyness. This, of course, is a statement made after passing through many of the different levels of singlehood- none of which were quite as glamorous as this one.
Disgust. Desperation. Dramatics.
All 'D' words that are not nearly as fun to type as my last name. But I've waded in those goopy swamps and come out alive. I've come out swingin'.
(Dallas does...kickboxing to come at a later date.)
I guess I had to sit around singing "One is the Loneliest Number" before I could triumph majestically in my round-the-clock rendition of Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it)." (*Note: No actual eardrums were harmed in the composition of this post.)
And so here I sit smiling to myself about my new found patience. I'm not saying I live in a world free of Y chromosomes, but, if I do say so myself, I do a pretty good job of seeing boys as boys and not just potential soulmates (...an ugly habit I picked up during those nasty junior high days).
I think I just got to the point where I couldn't stand the thought of following the same path of so many other young ladies like myself. That path where wanting attention suddenly becomes desperate cries of "pick me, choose me, love me!"
Because one day I woke up and realized I was bursting with love for myself. And, more importantly, respect for myself. Since when did longing to be in love mean having to feel like there was something wrong with me for being single?
Instead, I adopted the attitude that there was an intimidating amount of things right with me. Clearly fear of my amazingness is just worrying the boys away.
Hey, a girl can dream, right?
So my love life got a complete makeover. It became less about dating potential than about eventual happiness. Can I see myself really talking to this guy? Can I see us being friends no matter what develops on the romance-o-meter?
And, lo and behold, I am one happy little camper.
I have stronger friendships with long-term guy friends, bonds with fun boys my friends and I have recently met, and even a brand-new reason for butterflies whirling around my tummy.
As I grow-up, I feel like I'm growing into exactly the type of romance novel heroine that my seventh grade self would be tickled pink to read about: one who doesn't let her streak of independence fade away.
So what do I do now that I exist happily in the land of the lone wolves? Well I do believe it's time for me to be swept off my feet again. :)

A thought of the day from Alex Greven, a nine-year-old who wrote the epic tale "How to Talk to Girls":
"A crush is like a love disease. It can drive you mad."

Peace, love and cheeks pinked with blushing,

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