Once upon a time I dated a boy who was perfect. Seriously and legitimately perfect. But for some reason, I wasn't into it. As Spencer so perfectly put it, the mysterious X-factor just wasn't there. People kept telling me he was a great guy (he was); that marriage is hard and you just have to make it work, but I couldn't shake the feeling that you should actually want to marry the person you marry. Call me crazy.
The night I told him I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing, he cried. Legitimately cried and said, "It's just really hard because I know exactly how I feel about you, but you don't know how you feel about me." So we took a break. I really missed him, so we gave it another shot. A four-month shot. Full of ups and downs and ins and outs and really good times and really hard times and me really really wanting to be in love with him.Wanting to feel about him like he did about me.
We spent a perfect weekend at a cabin with my family. When he dropped me off at home, he kissed me, looked me straight in the face and said, "I love it when I love it." In that moment, I agreed, I had loved it so much the entire weekend and I thought, if the future is full of days like this, then I want nothing else in life.
But it didn't last. It culminated in my uncontrollable crying on the grass one night, and we broke up.
And sometimes now on the days when I'm lonely or the days when I'm sad or the days when I think maybe I should just give it up and settle, I remember how much I loved it then. I really want to find a young man I can love it with. Just really, sincerely love it. And call me crazy, but I really want him to feel the same way about me.
If we can find that, then maybe, just maybe, all of the boys in the argyle sweaters who didn't get my number will be worth it.