Am I the only one who as a little girl imagined my future? I had my Barbie live out my dream life every time I picked her up to play house. I imagined a husband and a family, a big beautiful home with a white picket fence, and a successful career that still allowed me to make every basketball, soccer game and dentist appointment. Even after my long day at work and a stop at the gym, I would have a four-course meal cooked and ready to serve by six o’clock, right as the hubby, Ken Barbie, would walk through the door. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a little; I know as a five year old imagining this, I swore I would never ever take my kid to a dentist, but you get my point. The difference between my Barbie story and reality is I can’t write the perfect ending, I can’t write love – I am not the God in my life like I was in the life of Barbie so many years ago.
Love is an issue that I have struggled with for quite sometime now. Not the child to parent love, or the Sheppard to sheep type of love, but the romantic love. The can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, World Series over the fence type of love that I read about in the fairytales. The same kind of love I see my parents share with each other. I have always wanted it, always looked for it, probably a little too much. I have gone through relationships that made me believe that I was in love. Some long and some short, only to find out that I cared for the person, but it wasn’t the love I was looking for. In some cases it was me loving almost unconditionally, and in some cases I was the one being loved, but could not find it in myself to love the person back. Don’t get me wrong, I have cared, but there is a difference between caring and loving.
I remember being five. I remember living my life out through Barbie. I remember all the future planning and dreaming, but I also remember considering someone twenty-five years old prehistoric. All I knew was that my mom married her first husband when she was fourteen married my dad when she was sixteen, and had me when she was seventeen. So I thought at the very latest I would be starting a family by the time I was twenty, or at least have a husband so that I could work on having a baby later. Back then I didn’t know exactly how to make babies, but I was nearly positive it took a husband and wife. Back then, I didn’t know what I was talking about.
I know that there is not a time line for love, but I do believe that I am guilty of looking for one.
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