Independent vs. Belle
I can recall with exceptional accuracy the way I felt when I had my first crush. Like a addict in an episode of Intervention, I’ve been chasing that high ever since. It’s intoxicating, you know? I could sum it up by calling it “butterflies” but its so much more. Its anticipation, excitement, sparks, and waking every morning with a big smile on your face wondering if you’ll see each other… all rolled up into one. It’s like Valentine’s Day every day, except without the hopes of perfection. There are no expectations, it just simply is.
Having said that, I’m no longer 11 years old; I’ve got all kinds of expectations when it comes to men, and it is, in fact, about to be February 14th. Last year I managed to coast through the holiday without so much of a daydream about cupid. It was refreshing. My heart felt perfectly safe cuddled on the couch with Henry. This year, however, yours truly has a date.
And not just any date, but a date with a man who makes me feel much like I did when I was only 11 years old. Only now I’m cornering 30 and I no longer have to be supervised by adults. What does this mean? …. anything is possible. And this Belles, is a control freak’s worst nightmare….
After plans were set with my handsome date, aka The Artist, I hung up the phone and shared a quick celebratory dance with Henry. Halfway through Michael Buble serenading us, it occurred to me that a Belle has a lot to do before the big day. (Note: This is my typical reaction in any situation where I know I’ll have little control over the outcome.) My virtual checklist started populating itself as I jotted down a quick “To Do List”. Only, it wasn’t quick. When I finished regurgitating my thoughts and ideas I looked at a piece of paper that was completely covered in handwriting, and it wasn’t a post-it.
Rather than get overwhelmed with the monstrosity of tasks I had created, I decided it would be better to get to work. This, Belles, was January 18th. What followed was three days of scheduling appointments to be colored, waxed, sucked, bleached, painted, primed, plucked, sprayed, trimmed, and hemmed over the week preceding aforementioned date. Oh, and I hadn’t even started thinking about my home. I mean, you never know what could happen. One minute we’ll be sipping wine over dinner and great conversation and the next we could be headed for the Stearns & Foster. My head started spinning….
The possibility of this happening resulted in another list of things that would need to be done beforehand. I felt a sense of overwhelm creeping up on me but then I paused and thought, “Am I the only one who does this?!” My speedy transformation from a successful confident and happy Independent Belle to an overwhelmed, anxiety ridden freak was definitely disturbing. Is everyone putting this much time into getting ready for a date with someone they might not even have a connection with? At what point does it go from “putting your best foot forward” to wearing someone else’s heels altogether? And, more importantly… what if there is a connection and it does develop into something more… are you then obligated to maintain this level of perfection that you’ve established on date one? Who could possibly do that?!
I’ll admit, The Artist and I have a history, so this wouldn’t exactly be a first impression. And while I’m not the same Belle I was when we met, I wouldn’t want to be. I spent years of my childhood in the South trying to be the best version of who everyone else thought I was rather than being myself. But despite that, the thing I remember most about The Artist is that he was one of the few people I felt I could be myself around. I trusted him. He felt safe. So why was I panicking all of a sudden?
The answer was simple, taking chances is risky. In addition to that, opening yourself up to be vulnerable around someone you cared for in the past can be dangerous territory. Regardless of how confident and secure you are with yourself, your opinion isn’t the only one that gets a voice when it comes to matters of the heart. Eventually, you find yourself standing in front of someone you have feelings for, hoping that they will like you back. (Come to think of it, this was exactly the kind of situation I had been avoiding like the plague.)
What I do know for sure is if my date does go well, (and I’m sure it will) I want The Artist to know ME and not some filtered version of the truth. I have a lot to offer the right person and authenticity is a big part of that. If I’m being honest, that euphoric feeling of a first crush has a lot more to do with natural chemistry than it does with the perfect manicure and freshly retouched highlights.
So Belles, I won’t be sleeping at the salon for the next week and it’s very possible that I will forget to dust something in my home… but at least I won’t be pretending. And with just a week left before the big V-Day date, I feel surprisingly at peace with that.
