5:16 p.m. | 2005-03-04
Our Endless Numbered Days
I've had this image in my head forever. Just passing two years now. It's only been propagated by further fantasy thought on it; idle hours spent dreaming. Each time there's a new detail to embody this perfection.
I'm so picky. I like my laundry folded a certain way and love when I get into patterns. I expect others to read my mind and get frustrated when they don't.
And each time this image gets more meticulous. My kitchen is nice, has an island, a knife block, and a hanging pot rack. All of my ports/silverware/dishes/napkins are high quality and match. My dishes are black and modern. I live in this apartment with wooden floors. I hate carpet.
A beautiful living room over looking the city. My music, impeccably matched to the mood I'm in when I dream and me. I'm in the kitchen making coffee, a bagel, and placing them on my matching plates (making not that when I'm finished I'll start the load in the dish washer).
The New York Times is set on my table and me, with my lightly cream filled coffee, and my breakfast. I pour over the paper making note of developments on old stories and catching new ones.
With me in complete control of this I can make it as close to perfection as I can. I could have anything I wanted. In my dream I drive a modest Benz, I dress well, eat well, and work well. But...I can't help but notice one thing that's missing. Company.
I had a dream last night about B.J. He was a friend of mine in elementary school. Elementary school. Dana, another friend from those days, was dating him and I was sat that I had lost yet another chance at love. I obviously want company. I actively, and accidentally, search it out everywhere. But in this fantasy, there's no one. Not even someone who morphs to fit my current interests. It's me, going to work, going to the gym, cleaning the floors, and coming home to me. I have images of me happily scrubbing the corners of my bathroom but not a single one of laying in bed on a Saturday morning next to my soul mate.
I feel forceful, powerful, and in control when it comes to this future I dream of. My fantasy provides. I've always believed in that idea of love never coming until you stop searching. Perhaps that's the best idea. To follow my dream. To begin doing everything I can just to make this work. And just wait for him to walk through that apartment door, uninvited but welcomed.
But sad love songs still play in the back of my mind.
