Monday, October 6, 2008

Future Me

For two years now, I have written an email to myself and had it delivered exactly one year later, as part of a "time capsule" project. Each letter has been addressed "Dear Future Me." I wrote about my baby sister becoming a mother, wishing myself to stop smoking for good (YAY, I really did that) and my boyfriend.

When I imagined my life when I was young, there were a few important factors that defined the grownup I wanted to be.

They are: art, open outdoor space, dogs, cooking, comfort, love, freedom, creativity...

I could probably go on for pages but I will spare anyone who reads this. I am not me unless I can spread out and be creative. I am not me unless I can mess around the schedule and make my own. Today, I felt like me a bit.

I went to a wine tasting on behalf of the job. I was uncomfortable once I arrived. I felt mentally clouded and totally uncool. Everyone seemed to know one another and they were all fakey-fakey. I had slight high school flashbacks. Look at me, the fattest girl here and the most dowdy! The men were all metro and wearing ties and sweaters with jeans. The girls were ditzy but thin and drawing attention. I was the one in flats and pants - yet again.

Still, I force myself to smile and talk to a few strangers. I could have networked a bit more, but this was an honestly douchey crowd. I made the best of it and left.

What felt awesome was the afternoon to myself. I had a few extra hours. I walked and shopped the Goodwill. I contemplated Halloween costumes. I made dinner at a leisurely pace. I drank wine while cooking and talked to my sister on the phone.

Sometimes I think my standards are wacky and sometimes I think I am so blessed. Does anyone really want more than to cook for a loving partner and talk on the phone and drink wine and walk around the city for a few hours every day?

One thing I never ever ever imagined as a young girl was real romantic love. I was a pessimist from adolescence. A boy name Charles blew me off when we had a distinct plan to go see Con Air. Guys at school would ask me about my slutty best friend or sexy baby sister or trigonometry. My mother was the world's bitterest divorcee. My deck was stacked for misery and I accepted it. I spent much of college in women's' studies classrooms and rejecting any cocktails purchased for me at bars. I fell for conceited jerks and cried when they dated skinny morons. I was fairly textbook for man issues.

I lucked out so much with my boyfriend. Sometimes, I think I used up all my luck and I am now cursed for career and such. See, I got the best and most attractive man I have ever met to fall in love with me. Sometimes, I think this far exceeds my lifetime allowance of happy points and as such I am doomed to never find my path in life.

For every youthful fantasy of happiness I created, there was never a man in the picture. When I fell in love with Bill, three plus years ago, I had to readjust mentally. It was a couple years into our relationship that I realized that someday, when we had children, we would both get a say in the way our kids were raised. Ridiculous, yes - but I had never seen two parents work together. That realization floored me and as a person who has worried about the implications of string theory since I was twelve, I like to consider my contingencies well thought out. I had imagined children but never imagined a dad in the picture. I had even imagined a wedding but never imagined a marriage. I guess I just assumed romances would always end (cough, cough, my issues, cough).


So, as I adjust to keeping Bill forever. I wish and I hope and I finally imagine a future me who isn't the tough and independent woman of my adolescent fantasies. She is similar in many ways but happier and softer too. Her independence is loose and free, not hard and defiant. Future me will not be the exact replica of the woman I imagined when I was a teenager. That can be scary when I realize my outline has disappeared.