Greetings from the South. I’m writing before I leave for my next destination, so it’ll be the last post from Wilmington. I’m sad to leave, as always, but excited to reach the next place.
The one thing that sucks about being on the road is the lack of books. While this post was still a new idea in my head, a snippet of potential quotes and phrases, I was reminded me of this book I used to have called, Other People’s Love Letters.
It was filled with notes, cards, scribbles and other little devotions of love from one person to another. I was obsessed with it, I still don’t know what happened to my copy.
I have a thing about love letters. Somewhere in the world, (seriously can’t recall where – wait. It was at The Lebowski Bar in Reykjavik. SCORE!), a stranger asked me what the one thing that I look for in another person, something that would ultimately reveal our like-mindedness. I smiled, leaned in and told her:
Love letters. My person writes unsolicited love letters. Jotted down on an index card, Post-It notes on the bathroom mirror, or long, lengthy pieces of paper ripped out of a notebook: that’s my thing.
I know this because I write love letters. Well, platonic ones. In college, I used to stick Post-Its on the bathroom mirror to my roommate with inspiring quotes or messages. She’d post ones back. It was a fun little game we played. I still write out long messages in cards, books and notebooks I give to friends as gifts. I’ve written them to one or two suitors as well, but I can’t recall anything specific.
But I’ve never actually received an actual, tangible unsolicited love letter from someone, and it’s something I’ve always wanted. An indicator of compatibility. That, hey, we have this in common! thing.
I love that.
I’ve gotten texts, sure, like anyone else. I got a written one once, from an ex-boyfriend in high school, but it was after a period of heavy hint dropping and a flat out request. So I don’t count it, and feel kind of guilty for cheating the system. On another occasion, I even got what could be considered to be a love email…though it was more of a swift, hard kick in the lady box.
Love is complicated.
Which gets me to my next point. Not too long ago, long enough to be kind of a faint memory but not too long that the memory doesn’t give me feels, I was driving in the car with a friend of mine. A heart-broken, sad friend who had given up on finding someone to check off all their boxes.
It made me sad for them. It’s hard to find love. That can be intimidating and scary, often like you don’t have control over this thing that’s supposed to be one of the most defining and special things in your life.
I told this friend (and I still stick to this), was that maybe the fact they were quick to find flaws and red flags was just because they knew, somewhere deep down, that person wasn’t right for them. That they kept doing it because they were in a hurry TO get to that right person. They thanked me for the sentiment, and it’s one that I’ve used to motivate myself as well.
There are certain things I 100% look for, and expect a future partner to have. I know that I want to be with a photographer or designer that knows his way around a website, and is as invested in his creativity as I am. I’d love for this blog to eventually turn into a shared piece, a shared endeavor that I can grow and expand with the help of someone else. Sure, it makes it sound like a job description more than a boyfriend, but working side by side with someone on a common goal is something that’s really important to me.
I want someone who cares as much as travel and adventure as I do. I’m so confident about that, I have it posted on my OKCupid profile.
(Seriously, look it up. My username is obvious.)
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to find it, or that it’s going to work out the way I expect it to. I dated a guy a few months ago, and he was probably the most validating person on the planet. I couldn’t go one day or even one afternoon, without him telling me that I looked pretty, that he really liked me, or that he thought all of my blog stuff was cool.
“You look like you just walked out of a magazine,” he gasped one day, when I was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
“I really like the trip you’re planning,” he said on another occasion. “I’d love to do something like that with you.”
“Sure,” I said. “We can do that.”
It was frequent and I swear I wasn’t always such a dick about it. It was just unusual for me. In fact, I’m still so surprised by the constant compliments, I remember telling Emily (old roommate) and her friend (don’t remember her name, but I loved her and thought she was hilarious), about the experience when I was in Baltimore.
“Toooooo much,” Emily’s friend said, taking a sip of her wine.
“Yeah, for real,” Emily agreed. “Make a girl sweat.”
They have a point. It was off-putting at times and I didn’t always know how to respond. But it still made me feel really good, and really safe. It freed me from the typical guessing game you have to play with some guys, the ones that have their walls up so high it would take a rocket ship to get over it.
It just wasn’t meant to be and ended for other reasons. And no, those reasons weren’t that he wasn’t a photographer or a designer. Love surprised me in that instance, and it’s a surprise that I’m happy about now. That experience made me softer, and more receptive to guys who aren’t afraid to wear their heart on their sleeve.
That’s kind of a rare and brave quality.
I’m still holding out for the creative type with an affinity for the written word. But in addition to wanting to surprise you, I think love just wants to take care of you. It wants you to take care of someone else.
And that someone else might just be someone great enough to change your mind about the photographer, the adventurer or the love letters. (Hopefully not the latter.)