Consumer Reports

Paula called me today because they are going to be re-doing their downstairs and she wanted to know if I wanted any of the furniture that they have in their current (formal) living and dining room. And she also wanted to let me know that the grandfather clock that is at their house is mine whenever I want it because Nathan wanted me to have it.

I think I only ever told him how much I liked that clock once. I mean he knew that I have always loved those beautiful old clocks, but I think we only ever discussed that particular clock once, and not at any length.... just an "I love that clock" and "Well, maybe we can have it someday." type conversation.

Was I married? Did that happen or was it all just a dream? Are we sure that was real?

I feel like I have to be this perfect, unscarred, paragon of a woman to have someone else love me. It's like all the girls in the world are standing on flat ground and their height equals their desirability. Some girls are naturally tall. Some girls wear heels, some girls stand on crates. But it feels like cancer/widowhood dug a pit under my feet, and my head only comes up to most girls' elbows. So to make up for it, I have to be taller than all the other girls. I have to have less baggage than a normal girl, to be prettier, to be funnier, friendlier, and smarter (but not too smart!) I have to like video games and football and hockey and cage fighting. I have to love the mountains, the lake, the beach, and the city. I also need to like dogs and motorcycles and have a passing knowledge of old cars. I need to like history and documentaries and comic book movies. I have to be an amazing cook, an excellent housekeeper, and make 70k a year. I should also be 22-24. I have to be drama free, physically fit, a size 4 and above all, not too picky, because the guy is the one who will be settling so I should be happy with what I can get.

But... I'm not all those things. I'm a few of them and I try to be/like some of them... but even with lots of work, I still only manage to come up to other girls' shoulders.

I'm really strong. I think this is something most of us can agree on. Or at least we'd agree if you thought about it, but you probably don't much, because I'm pretty sure I think about myself a lot more than everyone else thinks about me... You are rather busy thinking of you. That's quite alright- It's the human condition.

Anyway, just agree with me that I'm pretty strong. I'm strong and I'm (normally) emotionally stable and I'm dependable. I'm also reasonable, responsible, and logical.

Here's the thing though. There are times when I'm not those things... or at least times when I don't want to be those things. It can get really hard sometimes- being so strong and reliable, and I want a break. I want to have someone I can rely on. Someone who *knows* me. Someone who does things for me without even telling me. (Like letting his mom know about a clock.)

I want so very much to be weak for a while, but I can't let myself. I have to hold myself in balance because I don't have anyone else to rely on. If I'm going to go on a crying jag I need to grab the Kleenex box, because there isn't anyone there to grab it for me. I don't have my someone and I want him so badly... Someone who doesn't mind if I soak his shoulder with tears that I wouldn't let the rest of the world see and doesn't care if I get makeup on his shirt that I've cried off. Someone who still thinks I'm beautiful when I'm on my 20th Kleenex and my eyes are the color of a Sith Lord's light saber.

Someone who will laugh at the fact that I can still make really sweet Star Wars references in the midst of a tear fest, but won't assume that means that I'm fine now. Someone who doesn't think that holding me while I cry about a grandfather clock is baggage. And isn't intimidated by the fact that someone else once loved me enough to get me a grandfather clock.

Shouldn't that be proof that I'm worth it? I come with a letter of recommendation. If I were a car I'd have a top rating in Consumer Reports. I'm a great value, all things considered. Sure it's a long-term commitment, but: low upkeep, tested in hazardous road conditions, comfortable, trustworthy, and dependable. Plus I bake. I could actually take the metaphor a long way, but I'll stop before the feminists get all up in my grill.

... See what I did there?