Today is Thankful Friday and I am mostly thankful for the fab time I had with NikNak last night.
Since she became a yummy mummy to Baby K, we’ve tried to keep to a regular girls’ night out and so far, it’s working brilliantly.
Last night was no exception, and it was over dinner that we found ourselves reminiscing about the old days, where a night out meant always feeling like death the next day and drinking was done at home first to save money.
In the old days, three nights a week were girls’ nights out – with nights in peppering the gaps, and man gossip filling the texts.
And what’s a bit odd, is that although I’ve been promoted, got older, and no longer go out all the time on the scale of those olden days, my life hasn’t actually changed that much – three nights a week, I am still out and about doing something.
NikNak on the other hand, has got married and had babies.
Somewhere along the pathway, her life sped up and mine chugged along at it’s own pace.
And don’t get me wrong, I like that pace and NikNak loves hers, too. There is nothing wrong with either. What’s more, I have no issue with chatting babies and weddings – indeed, through no fault of my own, they are something of my specialist subject.
I’m sure if I went on Mastermind, I would blitz the round of ‘Wedding venues of the south east’ or ‘The top 10 baby names of each year since 1950’. But this vault of information in my brain is of little use to me personally right now.
And it’s not like I’m desperate to put that knowledge to good use either. I mean some time in the future perhaps, but right now, I would just like a date…
A simple date, where, if it goes well, and I don’t act like a total plank, as I did here, he calls when he says he will and doesn’t fill my head with romantic notions unless he actually means them.
London Aunt and I have a theory that men act like they’re Hollywood movie heroes because that’s what they think we want. And perhaps we do enjoy it. But in order to sustain this, it means we have to act like Hollywood movie heroines, and trying to be Cameron Diaz or Megan Fox every day is nearly impossible – or in my case, completely impossible!
It also means that when the fantasy ends and the guy says, ‘Yeah, this was nice, but I just don’t feel that way about you anymore.’ and you’re left replaying the last few months of incredible romance while calculating just how much money you’ve wasted on matching underwear and beauty treatments while trying to live up to his Hollywood fantasy, that you inevitably come to be more and more disillusioned by what guys say and what they actually mean.
So what do I want here?
Well, if I were to land the man of my dreams in the next few weeks, months or – harrumph – years, I would want him to be him. To follow his dreams, his passions, his own path and let me do the same. Those paths would then have to bump along together, hopefully well.
I don’t want the Hollywood movie script, the unsustainable romance, the feeling that it could all come crashing down around my deaf ears at any moment.
I want reality. Sometimes reality is crap, sometimes it forgets to shave its legs and nearly always forgets to wear matching underwear – but, on a positive note, reality is also sustainable, which when you’re falling in love, is one of the most important things.