Embarrassingly Old Work: Shorts: She is Somewhere – From 2000

She is somewhere. God help me to know where.

I’m not at the point where I think that the perfect woman is impossible to find. I just wonder if she’ll want to date me once I find her.

I just got the “you’re perfect – for someone else” speech again. That makes five times in the past three years, and some more before that. I’ve got several beautiful girls battling to be my platonic best friend, and every one of them tells me what a great boyfriend I’d make for someone else.

According to them, I’ve got a great sense of humor, am a lot of fun to be with, am fairly attractive, and qualify as definite marriage material. But in “this specific situation” — because everyone thinks that their situation is the specific one — I’m just not right for them.

So they’re saying I’m just not right.

I think I’d be greedy to assume that I will meet the perfect girl this early in life. I’m 21, and certainly have a long way to go. But the fact that I can’t seem to find a decent temporary replacement for her is what scares me. And what it comes down to, what it really all comes down to, is that I’m tired. I’m really, really tired.

I’m tired of meeting girls who complain that they don’t have someone who treats them well, yet still say they aren’t ready for a relationship. I’m tired of being happy with someone just long enough for one of us to figure out that we’re not really happy. And I’m tired of being told how good I’d be for someone else.

This is not the falling asleep drunk at 6:00 AM when you have class at 9:00 kind of tired. This is the kind of tired that only comes from a veritable lifetime of being single.

Sure, I’ve had relationships. I’ve even been in love twice – and they were in love with me. But for the prevailing majority of the past few years, I’ve been single.

I’ve been without a good morning thought, or a good night phone call. I’ve been without someone to write to when I get bored in class. I’ve been without someone that I could make soup for when they’re sick, or get a rose for because I felt like it, or to sit with and just be, with no expectation. Simply put, I’ve been living without.

If you’re female, it’s possible that you’re reading this and thinking “wow, this guy is perfect for me.” But odds are, you’re not. The prevailing thought going through your head right now is “wow, this guy would be perfect for my friend.”

And maybe I would. But it’s likely that your friend is reading this simultaneously, and thinks that I’d be perfect for you.

Irony is the cruelest of god’s devices.

She is somewhere. God help me to know where.

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