I don’t know if this is a ‘me’ thing or if it looks different for everyone. But every night when I go to bed, I try to picture some future version of my life that feels comfortable enough to put me to sleep. For all intents and purposes, let’s refer to it as the Bedtime Vision™. Here’s an example: when I’m talking to a guy I really like, I’ll imagine anything from going on dates to getting married to owning a house together. And if that comes off as creepy to any interested male parties reading this (probably zero) then I’m cool with that. I’m secure.
My friends and I used to create entire Sims families of us and our crushes in the 3rd grade, complete with babies. So as the saying goes… I’m not new to this, I’m true to this.
Anyways, the Bedtime Vision™ can change depending on the state of the union. Ever since like 2019, I’ve been putting myself to sleep with images of, “I’m going to live in a cool city! I’m going to get a cool job!” Sure it sounds cheesy, but I’ve also done both of those things, so fuck you.
I bring this all up because – yes – sometimes I gravitate towards, “I’m going to have a successful relationship!” The only problem is: “Okay, but with who???”
Because if I’m not actively talking to someone who holds my interest, I can’t just like, generate a stranger as a placeholder. Then amidst my writer’s block, I start questioning my independence, wondering if I even want to get married… the whole nine yards until FINALLY I wind up going to Snoozeville via the sound of tarot card readers on TikTok. So it’s safe to say I can be bumped up to the front of the line for a lobotomy.
But it’s not the lack of a relationship that’s keeping me up at night. I mean, I do eventually want to find someone who’s hot and loyal and will verbally abuse anyone who steps to me. It’s more about sitting with the idea of, That doesn’t exist for me right now, and then feeling like I’m on an island because no one else in my circle is going through the same thing.
Here’s another convoluted nutshell to try and explain.
When I was in high school and college, we would throw house parties whenever our parents would go on vacation in Aruba. I’m a lightweight. So usually how it worked was: I’d disappear to my room around 1 a.m., sleep, and then wake up around 6 a.m. to start cleaning the house. And at every party, there’d be one or two stragglers who never went to bed. They just drank through the night. So I’d be Swiffering our kitchen floor while someone sat at our dining room table, just talking to me about life. Where it’s going, what we’ll all be someday, x y z. And it wasn’t always a fruitful conversation, or one that was evenly balanced. But we were at least asking some existential questions, right?
Okay, so now that I’m 32 it feels like… I’m not throwing parties at my parents house anymore (although that would be fun). But I still have the Swiffer in my hand. I’m cleaning the house. Only now the dining table’s empty.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that I wish people would hit the “heart-to-heart” more often. Because it gets lonely feeling like everyone else besides me has reached their destination in life. And to run with the metaphor: being in transit is not, in itself, lonely. I would 100% rather be single with no bitches in my phone over talking to someone who annoys the absolute fuck out of me. But all I want is some reassurance that no one’s figured it out yet, like you’re all still kind of in transit, too. Your own ~special~ kind of transit that’s ~a little bit different~ than mine.
So sit back down at the table and bond with me over not knowing what the fuck we are all doing or where we are going in life. I will throw a party at Dave and Tracey’s and set up a highchair if I have to.
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