The Heartbreaking Reality Of The Small Town Teenage Dream

The reality of the small town teenage dream?

Underwhelming.

I had imagined there would be more.

Instead, he lived down to every small-town stereotype.

Small mind. Small ambition.

That smile.

That hair.

Those arms.

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.