Wonderful

I am really good at New Year's Resolutions.

It is, I suppose, the benefit of being someone who has worked in the position I do. As someone who is used to quantifiable goals, who is a bit of a nut for data (I look up 2010 Census information for fun), and who gets (as previously mentioned) really excited about holidays that make you retrospective, I'm bound to be good at New Year's Resolutions.

My goals for 2014 are relatively straightforward. I want to cross 12 finish lines this year, read fifty books, write more than I did last year, and do something incredible and challenging on/near my 30th birthday.

Such go the goals.

I've had a tradition over the past few years of including a New Year's Wish, something I close my eyes and say to myself at (or near) midnight. Last year it was that I would be OCD free by the end of 2013. While wishes, they tend toward the pragmatic. I've wished for a new job, a new bike, a new start. I've wished for forgiveness. I've wished that I'll get over my OCD and panic attacks.

2014 brought something different.

To begin, I went to an actual Honest-to-God New Year's Eve party. With noisemakers. With champagne. With friends. With dresses. It was, somewhat embarrassingly, the first New Year's Eve party I've been to as an adult (I typically work both New Year's Eve and New Year's Day) and the whole night seemed to have some sort of magical realism about it. I didn't feel like myself in the best possible way. Or rather, I felt like the best possible version of myself. Then, at midnight I closed my eyes and made the following wish.

In 2014, I want to be kissed by someone who thinks I'm wonderful. 

I know. Trust me, I know how this sounds.

***

I wanted to see the Aurora tonight. 

The chances were good. There was a major solar flare earlier this week, and the skies are relatively dim. The issue, of course, is that I live in the city. While I love urban life (mass transit, restaurants, music) I have to admit that sometimes the star-gazing gets me a little down (I did, afterall, grow up in the country). However, despite the good chances, there were myriad factors that kept me from going out tonight: busted car, lack of interest or availability on behalf of my friends, an ill-timed glass of wine on an empty stomach. 

All of these things, of course, added up to me not going Aurora questing as planned. 

***

I cancelled my OkCupid account.

It was the most liberating decision I've ever made. After a number of unsuccessful (and horrifying) dates, one or two truly terrifying encounters, and any number of interactions that make Anthony Weiner look like the paragon of chivalry, I finally broke down and cancelled the damn thing. 

I don't regret it. At least, not yet. Because I refuse to buy into the mentality of You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. Because, firstly, who the hell wants a prince anyway? I'd prefer a barbarian or master spy or Rumi-reading lumberjack or reincarnation of Teddy Roosevelt. And secondly, that implies that those frogs deserve a kiss anyway. Trust me, if you use the word "skinnier" in any capacity other than "If that girl got any skinnier she'd disappear. She needs to eat a cheeseburger" in front of me, you don't deserve, well, anything. 

***

Earlier in the week I got a little uppity with a friend who hasn't read a book I maybejustatinybit consider essential to being a well-developed adult. When he called me out on my snobbishness (snobbishness around books is something I really do work extremely hard to avoid) it made me start to wonder if it mattered in our friendship (the answer, of course, is no). Then I started to ponder whether or not it would matter with someone I'm dating. If bookishness or rather, lack of my particular kind of bookishness, in a potential partner would be a dealbreaker for me. I thought about it again tonight, as I wondered if an eventual partner would be willing to (on a work night) stay up late with me and drive out to the sticks on the off chance we could see something wondrous. Silly, I know, but I couldn't help but think that if it didn't matter perhaps deleting my online dating profile was a bit premature. 

Then I thought about the wish that I made on December 31st, at 11:59pm. I realize how frivolous it sounds. How extravagant and ridiculous and middle-school that wish was. But it has been too many years since I've been kissed by someone who just . . . likes me. I mean, actually likes me. Not likes me for the night or the afternoon or for-the-time-being but likes me. My relationships with men tend to be, well, rather utilitarian and brief. And online dating, at least the kind that I was doing, made those relationships (liaisons, probably) thrive. 

But I don't want that. I. Don't. Want. That. I'm tired of those kinds of relationships, those kinds of encounters. I don't need someone to geek out over the new season of Sherlock or understand the conflicted feelings I have about IVAWA straight away, but I want someone to try. I want is someone who will read The Brothers Karamazov, who will go look for the Aurora on a work night, not necessarily because those things are important to him, but because they're important to me. 

I want someone to do those things for me because he thinks I'm wonderful.