he told me he was ready to be in a relationship, he was looking for a girlfriend. a few days later he reiterated his quest, but this time making mention of some ideal qualities - a girl who wears sneakers and has tattoos. i laughed, asking him to consider expanding that list. he wanted to hear mine, my bullet pointed, checklist of an ideal man.
i laughed again, but this time at myself. i thought about the many revisions my list had undergone, and how i was once him, pronouncing shallow beliefs of being swept off my feet by the man of my superficial dreams - a guy wearing sneakers and adorned with ink.
i didn’t run him through my list, it reads a lot differently now and i wasn’t sure he was capable of understanding my edited, narrowed down, simple, two check points of criteria - best friend. lover.
he carried on with his journey, and we continued to exchange our relationship woes, our stories of great and lackluster sex, our needs and wants in life and of the men and women we began dating. i quickly learned his list was a lot heavier than he cared to admit, i just assumed he was terrified of meeting the woman who actually possessed all of that weight. we got to know one another. we were - friends.
and then it happened, the night we took the title of list holders. we both kicked off our sneakers and with precision and ease, ran our hands all over our tattooed skin.
we’ll continue to exchange relationship woes, our needs and wants in life and stories of the men and women we’ll date. i’ll still go on assuming he hasn’t met the woman who possesses all of that weight. we’ll be - friends.
that’s the funny thing about lists, if two people aren’t writing the same one, it doesn’t matter that you may meet, just every requirement on it.