Remember the days when you’d fall in love with someone and talk on the phone late into the night? Staring up at glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, you believed those effortless hours of conversation confirmed you two were meant to be.
When the time came to hang up so that each of you could squeeze in a cool four hours of sleep, you’d play that totally not annoying “Who hangs up first?” game.
I recently traveled to Hawaii with a best friend and her two children, Makaio (9), and Keahi (7). I happen to really love these kids, so I was excited, but a little nervous about the early rise times. I also had no idea what it would be like to vacation for a week with kids.
As a 38-year-old woman with no kids, vacation to me usually means sleeping late, reading at least three books on the beach in a week (in between sleeping some more), and essentially doing whatever I want, whenever I want. As you can imagine, that is not what I experienced on this trip. What did happen surprised me.
Shortly before he ripped my heart out and held it in front of my face, my ex-boyfriend told me he loved how un-jaded I was.
“You’re so optimistic and open…so joyful. So many women out there are jaded bitches,” he said, before verbally beating me down to a shell of my former self. I’m just kidding. It wasn’t that bad. Maybe.
My car guy, Dave, wears a curly brown ponytail that stretches down to his waist and glasses that kind of remind me of John Lennon. I found him through stellar reviews on Yelp. A free spirit, he’s undoubtedly the most unique mechanic I’ve ever met
Dave’s business looks nothing like your traditional automotive shop. Paintings of colorful swirls cover the windows on the outside of the building. Inside, Dave has eclectic posters with quotes and funny pictures hanging on the walls amidst countless plants and antique car parts plopped on the floor of the waiting area.
I’ll never forget my first time. I wore this drapey cream-colored promish dress. I think it involved a sash. At 21, I celebrated with the bride and other maids at some karaoke bar for the Bachelorette party. I gave the obligatory botched wine-soaked, half-crying speech at the rehearsal dinner. Headache pounding, I then miraculously made it through hair and makeup on the actual “big day.”
Walking down the aisle, gracefully carrying a carnation bouquet, I stared at my then boyfriend standing on the groom’s side fantasizing about our future wedding. A mere youngster.
A friend of mine fell in love. She declared it to the world through numerous romantic quotes and pictures she posted of her new boyfriend on Facebook. Their selfies show a couple beaming on day trips, hiking trails, and hammocks. The photographs, “likes” on each other’s everything, and “in a relationship” status are all too familiar. After knowing each other for a cool 11 days, my friend and her beau are happily stuck in the “too-fast, too-soon flytrap.”
“Auntie Michelle, have you ever had a boyfriend in your life, ever?”
This question, from my godson, Makaio, could have sent me over the edge, but it didn’t. Kids cut right to the chase, and I happen to love this one so I couldn’t help but laugh.
Munching on French fries in the backseat of my car, Makaio stared at me perplexed. My laughter didn’t make sense to him, so he asked again.
“No, seriously, Auntie Michelle, did you ever love someone?” At nine years old, Makaio hasn’t seen me in love, because my last major relationship fizzled when he was just three.