For the Holiday Season, A Wishlist of Sorts

Original Posting: October 2011

Happy October, everyone!

I love this month. The changing colors, the fall fashions (layering and adorable sweaters and knits, oh my!), the food (pumpkin!!!), and just everything about the fall season makes me feel so alive. Sucks that I have to be inside studying all the time, but what can you do? I'll play in leaf piles again when I have kids of my own. Or at least a husband. Or just, y'know, during such a time when I'm not killing myself over homework and I've gotten over my fear of slugs in the icky wet leaf pile...

Being an "adult" kinda sucks sometimes, really.

Not that anyone really pays attention to my blogging, but you view my new profile pic correctly; I dyed my hair! No pictures of the process, I'm afraid (though I did think about it), but I used pure henna to color it. I rather enjoy being a ginger; this was a very good birthday present to myself, and it turned out to be a lot cheaper than I thought. Good deal!

Speaking of husbands, I don't remember if I mentioned my friend getting married... but she did! I could dedicate an entire, separate-from-this blog to how awesome she is, but... Yeah. I adore her.

And while marriage is still very very very very very (times infinity) very way far off in the future for me, thank you very much... For all I've said lately about how opposed I am to the thought of romance in the wake of breaking up with my first boyfriend (um, yeah, still comfy with the heteroromantic asexual label over here), I would be lying if I said that I never ponder over what would happen if Mr. Right just stumbled into my path.

I've had lists of things that I wanted (tall, dark, handsome, and British), that I didn't want (full of piercings and covered with tattoos and a smoker), but I never had anything solid. There are things that I desire and things that repulse me, until I meet someone with those qualities and I realize it's just the opposite. But, in the interest of laying it out for myself, this is what I've got so far. Christmas time is coming up, right?

I don't know where he is. I don't know what he looks like, and I don't know his name. But he will be the perfect piece to fill the space in my heart that God left for him.

I'm taking a risk of being wrong. Maybe I'm being too bold. I hope I can be forgiven.

He will already know God, or he will desire to know Him. This is nonnegotiable. I fear negative judgment, so I am easily stifled. I know God is the only One with the right to judge me and I shouldn't give that right to anyone else, but I am how I am right now. I am afraid of being stereotyped for my faith, because I remember the stereotypes I believed about Christians before I became one. He doesn't need to be a particular denomination (I consider myself nondenominational); he just needs to have a relationship with Him. I tried to work around this for eight months with my ex-boyfriend; he didn't get a clue what I was on about with having faith in something until he got a new girlfriend. Go figure.

I hope he doesn't find my laugh annoying.

He will be a kid and pull me right alongside him... I'm sure I did my share of tearing around when I was a child, though I probably did it more quietly. I've forgotten how to do that; I've forgotten how to gaze with that childlike wonder at a caterpillar inching its way onto a leaf. I've forgotten about the floor being lava, about making couch forts, about snowball fights and squirt guns.

And I hope he can make me laugh. But if he can only make me smile, that's fine, too.

...But he also knows when to be serious. It's not joking-around time until I take my Serious Business face off. Sorry.

Go-to date: Pick a trail; any trail. Start walking. Talk, laugh, freak out at slugs. Repeat.

He can dance. Because I love it when a man can dance – ballroom dance, that is. If he can't dance, he wants to learn, and he wants to learn with me.

Go-to date, winter edition: Fill a mug with a hot beverage. Add fireplace and a comfy couch.

He won't hold things against me. I am particular; I feel things need to be a certain way, and sometimes these preferences are very trivial. Sometimes the things I choose to talk about are incredibly shallow, because I'm just trying to contribute. Sometimes I don't have anything to say at all; maybe I just don't feel like talking, and would rather sit and be quiet. I have a past, and it isn't all as happy and cheerful as I wish it could have been. I have baggage that I still don't have the courage to speak of to anyone's face, and while I try not to let it hold me down, I'm afraid it will be a part of who I am for a while. I am shy; I am introverted; I am thoughtful in the literal (and metaphorical) sense. I'm not strictly-speaking antisocial.

I hope he understands I'm a romantic traditionalist.

He will dump me before he manipulates me. I don't second-guess anything until afterward. I don't wonder if someone meant something else until the next day. I expect guys to manipulate my feelings because they're only looking for sex, but I haven't learned how to consistently notice it real-time. When I find out someone's lied to me, I take everything they have ever said to me as a lie, as well. I just want someone to be real with me; I am honest by default, and I only want the same from him.

I hope he forgives me when I won't open up right away.

He is spontaneous. That's the most succinct way I can put it. He can run on Mature all day, and then a magic wand rolls over somewhere and he wants to break out the crayons and a coloring book for a contest – winner chooses where we go out to eat. Maybe we sing Ke$ha and Katy Perry the whole way to Fred Meyer. Maybe he'll turn the line at the bank into a ballroom. Maybe we go crazy and have a capella worship in the streets with some friends, because we're young and life is just that good. Maybe we take our lunch breaks for a picnic at the park. Or, maybe he wakes up on Saturday and only wants to spend the whole day playing Mario Party.

Maybe his morning won't be complete until he's shared a mug of tea with me.

He has hobbies and obsessions. Sometimes these are one and the same for me, so they're one and the same here. It would be nice if we shared hobbies – I need an accessible crafting buddy in my life! – but we need hobbies apart, too. Maybe he doesn't know how to crochet and he'd like to learn. Perhaps he plays a mean guitar and happens to have a Little Martin that my little hands can wrap around. And maybe I'll die before I learn how to gut a fish and he hates the smell of paint; that's okay, too.

Maybe he'll surprise me by making dinner, once in a while.

I can bounce ideas off of him. I am a writer, and this will never change. But sometimes I need a sounding board when I get stuck. It'd be nice if I could ask him whether it's better to off a character or just let her move away until I find a better use for her; whether a guy of X age and Y family background would really refuse a hot girl for a date for Z reason, without him thinking I might need evaluation at a mental hospital (or cheating).

He has organic dark chocolate? I'll telepathically demand sharing. And he'll hear me, or else!

He won't mind the way I look. Because I'm not changing it for anyone but me. I'm probably going to be as flat as a board until I start having kids; my hips don't lie; my hair and makeup and clothes are my decision. I work out by choice and time availability. I eat healthfully by choice, and I will eat as much or as little as I want.

My family will love him; that's a given.

He won't mind my tastes in music and movies. And maybe he'll share some of them, and maybe he will introduce me to something new.

I hope he doesn't mind that my favorite singers are Owl City and Taylor Swift.

He'll know how to go on an adventure in our town. And he'll want to go on an adventure overseas someday. Maybe London?

Perhaps he likes Owl City and/or Taylor Swift, too.

He has goals. I don't know what they are yet, but he knows, and he's going to fight for them.

Perhaps he enjoys British telly and Joss Whedon.

And he supports my goals. I'm going to work in alternative/holistic medicine, goshdarnit! I know it's a bit out of left-field, especially for those who've known me forever, but it speaks to me. Other than writing novels and plausibly for a magazine, I can't picture myself doing anything else. Also, it'd be nice if he would want to help me with the fruit and vegetable garden I want to have someday!

Maybe he's looking for someone like me.

He's a family man. I love children, and I hope to have kids someday – whether they're born of me, or found by me. He'll be the man of the house, and he'll be the earthly father that every child needs. He's also a traditionalist: children are to be seen and not heard, polite and well-behaved. A naughty child gets a spanking and sent to their room, and no one gets dessert until they've finished their vegetables. Mom and Dad are boss, and that's final.

Maybe he's put me on his grown-up Christmas list.

He'll be the man. Sometimes I don't want to take a risk. Sometimes I want to stay safely in the feminine and let the boys be the boys. I'll come out and play Capture the Flag; I'm not afraid of cleaning up mold and taking out garbage. But I'm leaving roof repairs, the pickle jar, and any spider with a longer legspan than my thumbnail up to him.

Sometimes I wonder if I've already met him.

He's a gentleman. He doesn't have to hold every door open for me or always walk on the street side of the sidewalk, but I am a lady and I expect that he'll know how to treat me like one.

Maybe he's on holiday from the University of Edinburgh.

He respects my boundaries. Being in a relationship is not an excuse to touch me wherever he wants, whenever he wants. He'll ask me if he wants to try something, and he'll understand if I don't want to try it just yet; and he will leave drop the subject there.

Maybe he'll come across this post.

He's handsome. Kinda shallow, but yes, this is important. And he'll know it, but he won't be full of himself. He'd better look good in a suit!

Maybe he'll read between the lines.

He'll be confident, and he'll be kind. This is very important. I don't mean that he's a smooth operator who always knows what to say; I mean that he is sure enough of himself that he doesn't have to be jerk about it or step on anyone else. He respects everyone he meets. He doesn't play with girls' hearts just because he attracts them; he knows what he's looking for and he won't string girls along just because nothing better's available. When he does start dating a girl, it's because he thinks she's something special.

I hope he realizes I'm talking about him.

I'm sure there's more. But I'm half-asleep right now. I had midterms and a paper due this week, so I'm a little out of it. This seems a good enough place to leave off.

♥Sarah