wishin' and hopin'

ok, for some of my dear readers, i preface this post with the disclaimer that this topic may rub a bit obnoxious.

i just have to say - i realized the other day on my walk to the train that being in love for real has significantly and dramatically changed some of the strangest and most sheepishly RIDICULOUS things about my everday life.

how so?

well, see if anything about this internal dialogue smacks familiar:

'hmmm.... what do i want to do this weekend? party? will there be any possible cute boys there at all? hm. not likely. ok, well, what are my other options? starbucks with a book, looking cute. no, really really, i should go volunteer or something at least. at least then maybe there will be someone cute and nice who also likes to serve his community and he will fall madly in love with me because i am so charming and funny and cute. yeah? ok, not likely either. well, i could meet J&J for a drink tonight at least. you never know who might be at the bar. but i can't stay out late, because i have that work meeting tomorrow morning with all those members coming in, and you never know, maybe one of them will be a cute accountant? maybe? yeah, well, we'll see."

or this:
"hmmmm... well, i really want to wear this dress to church tomorrow because i have to usher, so i'll be right out in front of everyone, and who knows whose heart may flutter a bit and decide to talk to me or something? must choose something in between 'hot' and 'too hot for church'..."

these are samples from the running commentary in my head EVERY DAY. just samples. some of the least psychotic of the possible samples, i might add.

and now - not. it's a weird, light, incredibly freeing feeling to not have to frame every decision around the subtle *and may i add, ineffective* schemes and dreams of catching someone's eye. it is remarkably more calm to get ready for work every day. to choose a new perfume. to wonder whether anyone saw me order fries with my shameful drive-through cheeseburger, or whether my new haircolor will turn out to be boy-repellent.

it. is. awesome. to be loved.

that's not to say that i don't think about what i look like every day, or that i have already given up trying to look nice for Yale or that i have no interest in what he likes to see me wear, or how i cut my hair, or whether i wear flats or heels. i care. it just doesn't dictate my every action. i am not trying to woo anyone. wooing is exhausting.

and anyway, none of that stuff had anything to do with how or why we fell in love. how crazy is that? all those wasted energies.... well, i'm sure the fact that Yale thought i was pretty the first time we met in person does, in fact, have something to do with all these years of obsessive self-talk. ok, so maybe it does matter a little. it matters, but it doesn't consume my thought life anymore.

thank the Lord.