The reality of the small town teenage dream?
I had imagined there would be more.
Instead, he lived down to every small-town stereotype.
Small mind. Small ambition.
My mother so desperately wanted me to bring the surfer boy blonde with the dimples home with me for Christmas.
He had never seen a beach though – and his dreams would likely never take him there.
He saw home in that small town and I saw ghosts worth leaving behind.
I’m not one to disappoint my mother though, so I opened my mind and I opened my life.
I played with the idea of him.
I tried to convince myself that Friday Night Lights and town hall meetings are not so bad.
If we are really being honest I simply didn’t want to be alone.
I found myself unimpressed.
Instead of basking in the glory of the boy in my space, I anxiously awaited his departure.
It all felt wrong.
It was all fun and games until I realized I was tired of fun and games.
I wanted someone to stand beside me when the world got rocky.
He needed someone to catch him when he fell.
I guess that’s why the saying ‘Age is nothing but a number’ simply isn’t true.
I found myself babysitting him more than dating him.
My god he was beautiful, but he was work.
He counted on me for too much and I could count on him for nothing.
Nothing but disappointment and frustration.
He needed me, but I did not need him.
The smile, the hair, the arms.
I didn’t need any of it.
I needed a man who could care for himself, not a boy who needed to be cared for.
I needed more than a pretty face, and a mind that couldn’t be bothered to think for itself.
The reality of the teenage dream?
He’s not a dream at all.