It’s been a while hasn’t it. How have you been?
Myself? I’ve been good. And I’m not just saying that because that’s what you’re supposed to say when people ask how you are. I’ve actually been good. I’m at a good place right now. Quite content. I really hope you are too, June.
A lot has happened since I last talked to you. You wouldn’t even believe. I’m still having a hard time believing it myself sometimes.
I got a job that I really like. I got my driver’s license. I got a car. (All in that order.) I checked three out of the four things on my list that I need (well mostly want) to do in order for me to feel ready to be in a real relationship. I know it’s silly, June, to have a list, but they’re more like goals.
And I know my end goal or purpose in life doesn’t depend on or shouldn’t be for me to get a boyfriend/husband. That’s why it’s at the end of my list, because that’s not my priority and that’s just fine. And it would also be fine if it’s a top priority for someone else. Just saying.
But what does that even really mean, a “real relationship”? A “real boyfriend”? I feel like that term makes all my past relationships “fake” or unjustified. Surely it felt real to me at that time. But was it really real if I’m not still in that relationship? I think it does to some extent.
I understand how you could be in a fake relationship, but why would anyone want to be in one of those? No one wants fake. Everyone wants real. Real money. Real love. Real cheese. (I mean, c’mon June, who really wants fake cheese? Not me.) But how can you actually know for sure if it’s real when you can’t know exactly if the other person’s feelings and intentions are real and true?
I know, June. It’s a risk. It’s vulnerability. It’s trusting that the other person is genuine, and is gonna be there to, not catch you when you fall, but fall with you. And when you hit the ground, you hope the other person is gonna is still gonna be there, help you up and keep going with you. You hope it’s the real deal.
And I really hope it’s real with K. I’ve liked him for at least five years. I think it really could go somewhere. I hope it does. But we’re both ystill oung. Still growing. Still learning what it is to be real. I want the real deal, June. Who doesn’t?
Anyways, June, I’ll write to you soon.
Love and all the good things,