The first half of the 30 Things List had things one should have before turning 30. The second half has things one should know. Without further ado, I give you #1 in a post of its own.
1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
Now, I know it is wrong to post other people's published work. However, the story from the book was spot on for me, so I decided to post it in its entirety here until I get busted. My commentary follows the story.
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What you are about to read is a fable, though it's inspired by the all-too-true experiences of many women we know. It's a cautionary tale about a girl named Jess who had a way of losing herself every time she fell in love. Love, of course, is a wonderful thing, a grand adventure of the heart. But while it's thrilling to get caught up in its wake, don't forget to hold on to who you are - or that incredible person might get swept away. That's what happened to Jess.
Like many young women in their twenties, Jess wanted a lot in life: a bigger apartment, a promotion, new ankle booties, and a loving boyfriend. She was a meticulous dresser, kept her sunny studio apartment spotlessly clean, and loved her job. She was curious about the city she lived in and drawn to the many things it offered, like art museums; tiny, interesting restaurants; awe-inspiring concerts; and even, when she was feeling ambitious, the occasional Shakespeare production. She had a great sense of humor and many friends. She was always busy on weekend nights. Jess was a go-getter. She had a good head on her shoulders. And she was in love with love.
When Jess fell in love, she fell in love: headfirst, eyes wide shut, throwing herself into the relationship with her entire body and soul. So much so that every time it happened, she would become a whole new person.
She met Baseball Billy at her corner bar one evening and was immediately smitten with his crooked grin and muscular arms - even though sports bored her to tears and she would have rather spent her Friday nights listening to a violin quartet than doing the seventh-inning stretch. She stopped eating at her favorite French-Vietnamese place because Billy ate only at "chain" restaurants (to match the one he wore around his neck, she liked to joke).
But Jess's relationship with Billy stopped being a source of amusement to her friends when she started canceling plans, ignoring her book club, and giving away theater tickets to be with him. They began to complain: What the hell? When would they see Jess? But the two stopped dating a few months later, and Jess was heartbroken, especially since she'd spent her entire year's shoe budget on tickets to see the World Series, which she had no interest in seeing. Thankfully, there was always eBay. Problem solved, and new platforms to boot. (Jess liked puns.)
But when she met Sci-Fi Sam, Jess decided to try even harder. She fell in love with his quirky sense of humor and owlish glasses. It was a relief to be with someone whose vocabulary wasn't limited to "Babe" and "Get me a beer, would ya, hon?" She read every one of Sam's far-fetched science-fiction screenplays and learned how to say "I love you" in Klingon without giggling. On Halloween, she dressed up as Uhura to his Captain Kirk; she fought through the crowds in her uncomfortable Amidala headdress at Comic-Con; and she watched every episode of Stargate and Torchwood on Friday nights with the same intense devotion she used to give Man Men.
More than anything, though, Jess wanted a relationship to last. She was obsessed with finding The One, and although she was only twenty-nine, she began to have an irrational fear that her city was filling up with smarter, younger, prettier girls every day who would take her right out of the running. She had to put a ring on it. It was time to get serious.
The next two years were a parade of boys - and the worlds that went with them. There was Alt-Rock Andy (suddenly her iPod was filled with bands she'd never heard of, whose song lyrics she mauled when she sang along); next, Hockey Hal (now Fridays were at Madison Square Garden, and Jess discovered there was a certain thrill to pounding the glass and yelling); then Pretentious Pete (an aspiring writer whose short stories she could not understand but pretended to love); and finally, Hipster Harry (for him, she cut her hair into choppy layers to look more like the girls at the clubs they partied in till dawn).
She'd given everything to every boy she'd ever fallen in love with, and after a dizzying and devastating run of it, Jess woke up one day in Harry's drafty loft and looked in the mirror: "Who am I?" she asked, appalled to see a girl with messy hair and tired eyes, wearing a baseball cap and a flannel button-down over a World of Warcraft T-shirt, along with skinny jeans that were so unflattering on her. What had happened?
But instead of despairing, Jess laughed out loud. One thing she'd never misplaced was her sense of humor. Seeing her reflection, she remembered: "I am Jessica. I like J.Crew cardigans and extra-large Frappuccinos and fresh flowers and clean apartments and real dates with men who care about who I am. I'm going to call my friends and start paying attention to my work. I will comb my hair, I will renew my theater subscription, I will go see the new Picasso exhibit. And I will never, ever again pretend to love video games." She breathed a deep, stress-melting sigh. Getting to know Jess again was going to be the coolest thing she'd done in a long, long time. And the rest, she was suddenly certain, would fall into place.
Which, of course, it did.
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No, I'm not Jess. Though, I have been. A long time ago, I posted the quote to my favorite quotes section of my many social networking profiles, "You could be anyone." No one really noticed, which was fine. It was more of the first time I awoke to the fact that I had become Jess from the story. I could be anyone I needed to be for whomever I was with.
Unlike Jess, I never changed myself as a mad-dash attempt to "put a ring on it". Instead, I'd change myself to be the person I thought the person I was with needed. Someone very dear to me referred to people like us as "Fixers". The term fits. We're drawn to a person for whatever reason - we stay because we believe we can fix whatever is broken about them.
Yeah, I know it sounds very martyr, holier-than-thou, but that's the way it is. Usually the fixing works out, then the relationship ends - unless the Fixer is caught in a Catch-22 situation where the issue he/she is trying to fix would be perpetuated by him/her leaving.
It took me a long time to learn this one, and even now I'm still working on it (I can tell you all about beer, though it isn't even remotely on my radar of interests).
All I know about this is that it is important to discover you, the real you, figure out what it is you really want out of life, and then be true to what you want. It's okay to be selfish in this. After all, you only get 100 years to live. ;)
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