I was that girl. That girl that ran around the playground at school chasing boys. That girl who hit boys because she liked them. That girl who played truth or dare, spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven.
That girl who needed a boy—any boy’s—attention.
And that girl went on to be a teenager who chased boys. And that teenager became a young lady who chased boys. And that young lady became a woman with a child who finally whispered to herself in a peaceful moment late at night…
I don’t exactly know how it happened or when it happened but somewhere between divorce, bad dates, painful crushes, near death experiences, restraining orders and a child with an enormous soul who seems to have chosen me to look to for answers — somehow this woman found herself boy crazy no more.
What a relief! I mean, let’s be honest, all that chasing was thoroughly exhausting. But it’s what I knew. I was your text book case. No father figure living in the house, a mom who drank, zero self esteem… yep, boys were the answer for sure.
Who knew the answer all along was me.
Don’t get me wrong, I still think men are wonderful. I like the way they look, the way they walk, the way jeans hang on them, the way their hands move, the sound of their voice when telling a good story, the way they can drive long distance and not get sleepy behind the wheel…
Yeah, I still very much love boys.
I just don’t need them to love me anymore. Not in that desperate, please complete me sort’ve way.
It’s a very freeing feeling to finally know that all that running has come to an end. That I am okay. I am happy in the company of one and I have a choice to be in the company of two.
I have a choice.
I look at my daughter who has friends who are already texting boys, writing love letters and having serious crushes on American Idol contestants.
They are me.
But not my girl. At 10 years old she finds all that stuff quite simply,
Thank you, God!
She looks at the boys in her school as buddies. When she writes a love poem it’s about art or her dog or the sky. She closes her eyes when a kissing scene happens on television or in a movie. She uses her cell phone to call her dad and me (and often times forgets she even has a phone). She watches American Idol for the singing.
It’s amazing! It’s so healthy! So normal! So… being a child!
And so foreign to me. At her age I was already madly in love with Mark Breitbard and trying to find ways to get him to kiss me after school.
But, as a mom, she has seen me as a woman who has been single her entire life. A woman completelely self sufficient, independent, dependable, trustworthy, strong and able to get out of a relationship if it isn’t working.
Maybe that has helped her. I hope so.
If I can spare my daughter the pain and heartbreak that comes with chasing boys and instead teach her to fall in love with herself first… that would be one lesson I would be very proud to have taught.
As for me, I’ll take my lessons as they come, when they come, how they come. And when I learn them I’ll happily share them… with you.
However, teaching my very co-dependent dog to not be so desperately in love with me? I think I’ll keep that lesson to myself.