The Evolution of Erika

Some thoughts occur to me as I am traveling along the unanticipated paths of life: What are the exact coordinates of my destination? Do I have to rely upon or wait upon others to get there? Does it matter if I crawl, walk, run, or jog? Do the times I trip or stumble count against me? When do I get to breathe? How much personal space am I allowed? Are colorful treats with sprinkles provided along the way? Are there any shortcuts? Do I get a good non-plastic prize whether I reach the finish line first, last, or somewhere inbetween? Are you sure I have to use that port-a-potty? It smells. I see a girl over there with a sparkling clean granite potty...why can't I use hers?
It is during these times of uncertainty, hesitation, impatience, envy, and frustration that I have to look at where I have been to figure out where I am going.

I am contemplating writing a series exploring the experiences and decisions in my life which have led me to my current state of being. I am feeling the need to pause and reflect upon past experience and appreciate the progress I am making in life, even if the increments of success are measured in small units. I do not want frustration, impatience, and ingratitude to be my chosen guides. I have felt a surge in my anxiety levels and I know immediate action is called for because my EMT friend Hershey is becoming quite expensive. Although I appreciate the reliable and fail-proof mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, I must find other ways to get keep myself conscious and breathing. And yet, I fear I am missing an important piece of the puzzle, that perhaps I am permitting my temporal responsibilities to cloud my larger mission in life. I sometimes wonder if I have been clued in to the full mission objectives, yet I haven't received any coded messages announcing their power to self-destruct in a matter of seconds, so apparently, it must not be top secret. However, it is Monday morning and I have no secret decoder pens or desire to delve into the deeper mysteries of heaven and earth, yet I did have an interesting thought this morning on my way to work.

What would it be like to gather all the boys I dated before marrying my husband, and put them in a room together? Awkward is the first word that comes to mind, but upon further reflection, what insights would I gain from their perspectives of me? In my personal life, I tend to classify and organize objects and people...I guess it is comforting to me to have this neat little life all packaged in boxes, allowing me the ability to access bits of information when and where I need them. I honestly would be apprehensive to hear what any of these thirty-something men would say about me, and I think it would be much more fun to discuss them here and now, especially since none of them can defend themselves. Upon thinking of the varying personalities of these boys, it is no surprise to me that each of them would fit into a societal-based labeling system. I could categorize them individually as a jock, a nerd (okay, there would be more than one), a country farmboy, a playboy, a loner, and a long-haired, tattoo clad, motorcycle riding rebel. Thinking about how humorous and frightening it would be to even allow these young men to speak to each other causes me to pause and wonder, What was I thinking?

Allow me to evaluate what each of these young men did for me in terms of helping me see the merits of wise choices in mate selection.
The jock made me feel popular and the center of attention; I relished being seen with him and the special boost my ego derived from being associated with his name; however, speaking to him was always a painful experience.
The nerds of my youth were always the same: we enjoyed intelligent conversation but there was more chemistry between mold spores and petri dishes.
The country farmboy: I appreciated his sincerity and work ethic; his aspirations of local living and usage of tobacco and alcohol helped me to see how much I value my individual health and the health of any person I might choose for purposes of procreation.
The playboy was a fine-looking boy with popularity and ambition; I felt powerful by his side. He had earning potential; I could see myself with him long-term. He was the prize I always felt I deserved for being such a good and righteous girl. However, his inability to remain faithful for more than two seconds sealed the finality of our break-up. I am glad I was no longer "deserving" of him.
The loner was good-hearted but misguided, loyal to his family, yet trapped in a vicious cycle of collusion and personal appetites.
This leads me to the rebel: he was FUN...and dangerous, really dangerous, but oh-so-much fun. I appreciate all that he taught me in regards to enjoying life, but when it comes down to it, I am a woman who needs rules and regulations to feel secure and stable. The art of freestyle living, including the practice of free love, would have caused me to have a brain aneurism by the ripe old age of 21.
And in case you are wondering, only the playboy was religious. Go figure.

I purposefully described these gentlemen out of chronological dating order in case any of them ever happen to see this post. I speak to none of them anymore, but stranger things have happened in my life. And if something out of the ordinary occurs, like one of them becomes a senator, I will gladly remove this post. However, I don't believe any danger of that looms on the horizon.

After rambling on for about an hour now, I recognize the sheer vanity of this exploration. I guess the point to deconstructing the men who previously made appearances in my life is to A) appreciate my advanced power of discernment and B) express gratitude for the one I chose to become a permanent fixture by my side. I can think of no label to amply suit him, as he is quite dynamic and a good match for me. He drives me crazy with his personal time table, (a.k.a. not my time table), and his lack of ambition to find the dirty clothes hamper, yet he embodies the best of my ideals and together, we make quite the unified team. We most likely will never be invited to the big house on Pennsylvania Avenue, but we reign supreme on the back third acre of the 1560 block. No doubt!