Who knew that after 26, comes the age of disappointment, missed opportunity, and inadequacy? The ticking of the biological clock is heard in the passing of baby bumps on the street, the hand holding late in the park after getting off the train, and evenings after work sitting alone on the couch watching the latest episode of Homeland.
The months after the 27th birthday have been marked by the shortness of breath, the sinking heart, the sweaty palms, and the need to keep my feet and brain moving. I can feel the pavement picking up beneath my feet rushing my pace to the next destination, lest the world fall apart behind me.
Yet, on a walk home, I watched the 6pm sun sink into the skyline and let the wind brush up against my earlobes. The landscape filling like a preschooler's coloring book: vibrant and meticulously messy. The cracks in the sidewalk spreading like the limbs of a tree hanging onto its last leaf.
It was a moment like so many others; peaceful and pleasant. And all I wanted was to have someone to nudge in the shoulder and to say, "How fuckin cool is this?"
As children, we yearn for independence. We go from wanting to cross the street without having to grab hold of someone's sleeve to fighting with pink polka-dot dress wearing mothers standing over hot stoves about going to the mall alone. We want to make decisions without questions splitting through the crack of the door and bouncing off the walls of our bedrooms. Filled with rage and angst as teenagers, we want nothing but to be alone and absorbed in our brooding moods and curse filled music.
In adult hood, we purr as love songs play on our Beats by Dre headphones (Miguel's "Adorn" on repeat, please). Our hearts are softened by frivolous romantic comedies playing on cable networks on Saturday afternoons and simultaneously impassioned by the knock-you-to-your-knees losses of loved ones. We wish on the stars for the companionship that will make us selfless, even if it's only for one meal where we sacrifice our favorite noodle dinner to eat fish tacos instead.
I'm starting to think that blogging, tweeting, instagramming and all that sharing of information is a substitute for real intimacy. Did I just say that? I sound like some old fart on the 8:30 segment of the Today Show, but I suggest this with sincere curiosity. All I've ever wanted was a room of my own and now I sit on my couch and think about how nice it would be to have someone with their feet up on the coffee table, hands in pants Al Bundy style.
This post is not about romantic love, but the moment when you realize that your greatest accomplishments come in the form of relationships. Winning awards mean nothing when...control your gag reflexes here, folks...when you have no one else to share it with. So this is why we will tweet to complete strangers that we have wiped our asses or are standing in a long line at Starbucks waiting for a soy pumpkin spice latte.
Our lifestyles have made it easy to feel connected to others, but as I thought about this the other day, it seems that no matter how many commas we have in our followers box, we still feel isolated. At this stage of life, it becomes more apparent that it doesn't matter how many numbers you have programmed into your phone. Rather, how many of them can you actually call after midnight to share a good cry or a funny joke? It's easy to find good company, but relationships are harder than finding your favorite lip balm in the bottom of your purse. No seriously, I have bought hundreds of lip balms and have never finished one, yet I can't find any of them.
Anyway of all of the friends I have made over the years, and I don't use that word lightly, it has been painstakingly hard to keep all of them. For something that matters so much, we get so little training in them. Friendship and Relationships 101 (honors), please? When you've spent so much of your life "working on your best self" how do you transition into partnerships?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Relationship Ramblings, part 257.
by Amelia Pontes at 7:55 AM