How do You Know when You're Ready for a Lasting Relationship?
While talking with my mom recently about my plan to make dating a priority, she smiled at me and said "It really does sound like you're ready for a relationship!"
What was it that prompted this statement? Was it a long explanation of how I have moved past the desire for a fairy-tale perfect romance and recognize the inability of any relationship to live up to that kind of pressure? Was it the five years of work I have done in order to be comfortable in my skin and ready to share myself with another person? Was it my ability to make the world's best chocolate cake?
No.
It was the story of a few months ago when I had to go to a mechanic to have my brake pads replaced. I made an appointment for the end of the day, thinking I would wait in the shop and read a book while they did the work and then I'd drive the car home in under an hour.
Ha. Ha ha.
Instead I was told they would have to keep the car overnight for the work. Since I only have the one car and no one to drive me to and from the mechanic that night and next morning, I had to set a new appointment for when I could arrange to have a friend help me out. I drove back to my apartment, white-knuckling the steering wheel and alternating between muttering under my breath and fighting back tears over the fact I couldn't get my damn brake pads replaced on my own.
This is not the only event to create an undeniable longing for a partner within the last year. From a minor surgery to hauling two armfuls of groceries and a 20 pound container of cat litter up two flights of stairs to struggling to fall asleep after watching too many episodes of a true crime show, it felt like at least once a week something happened to remind me I was single and lonely.
I know- and my mom knew- that I am ready for a serious relationship because I am ready to have a partner for the day-to-day annoyances of life. Someone to make me laugh about needing them to come pick me up from the mechanic, to carry one of the armfuls of groceries, to help me throw a pill down Oliver's throat every night, to assure me if a murderer were to break into the apartment they would kill them first because their side of the bed is closer to the door.
I have no interest in the fairy-tale. I don't want white horses and big weddings and elaborate dates. I want a partner. I want someone to do the dishes with me, help keep the cats off the bed while I change the sheets, and help me get the damn brake pads replaced.
And, you know, being in love and being loved would be pretty amazing too.
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