Being sick is one of the most miserable experiences we as humans have to deal with. Sinus pressure, itchy eyes, coughing, sneezing, exhaustion, and body aches. All we want to do is sleep it off and find a bit of comfort and reprieve. Interestingly enough, this is also when the people around us tend to keep their distance more, for fear of contracting this misery incarnate themselves. Truth be told, nobody likes even ready a status update about how sick someone is. When I am sick I want a grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup, ginger ale, and to watch "The Princess Bride"... Not to be shunned and ignored. It is human nature to want to be cared for in moments of weakness, regardless of what that weakness is.
I consider myself to be an extremely independent person an am proud of the steps that I have taken (and bullets dodged) over the years to become the woman I am today. However, lately I have taken more notice of my internal desires to "be taken care of". What the hell does that even mean? I don't want a sugar daddy. Hell, I've never even dated anyone with money. Give me a poor guy with great eyes or a charming smile and I'm in! I am not interested in your pocket book, pal. I am also not a victim of any sorts. I don't need someone standing next to me saying, "poor baby" every time I have a tough day. Save all that jazz for the big moments, folks.
I want someone in my life who will take an absurd amount of photos with me because they know it makes me dance on the inside. I want someone who will have a Harry Potter marathon with me (yep, letting my geek flag fly...) and drink beer all day. I want someone that I can cook for and make shadow puppets with for no damn reason. I want someone to share a life with... To make tea for.
I wandered the halls of my hostel and bothered travelers from all over the world on our amazing rooftop to see what these independent vagabonds thought. To my surprise, most of them were dead on with what I had scribbled down as my thoughts on the matter: Everyone needs to be taken care of and to take care of others.
I crawled into bed that evening and watched an old favorite, "Breakfast At Tiffany's" and in a flash I saw the correlation between my ponderings and this silly, yet classic, movie. Holly Golightly, the main character played by Audrey Hepburn, is this wildly lovely and wonderfully lost girl who doesn't know she needs help until a man comes along and stands in front of her to look her in the eye instead of chasing her. Throughout the movie I noticed aspects of not just caring for each other, like when Holly buys Paul the ribbon for his typewriter, but taking care of each other. When she demands that he take her out and to "Promise me one thing: don't take me home until I'm drunk - very drunk indeed." he does just that. In essence, he is taking care of her by giving her what she needs at the time, not what he feels is best.
Why is it we try to impose our solutions and needs on others in times of difficulty? I have noticed over the years that those who surround me, especially former flames, just thrust their ways of handling difficulties and obstacles upon me. If they like to be left alone when struggling, they'd disappear into a puff of mystical smoke as soon as there was a road block in my path. Difficulty communicating? They shut down. Loss in the family? It's softball time, cry it out in the couch, darling.
I find it mind boggling that we as a human race find it so damn difficult to look the person we care about in the eyes and say, "What do you need?" and then figure out how to give it to them. Is that not what loving a person- regardless of the relationship- is about? Jesus, when I care about a person I want to bake them a cake for no reason, clean their house, and let them know they're loved; friend, lover, family, whatever. That's why Holly Golightly giving Paul the ribbon for his typewriter struck me: I may be a kindred soul with Holly Golightly.
Oh, hell. I don't want to be one of those girls staring with puppy dog eyes at an episode of Sex and the City muttering, "Oh my gosh, I am so totally Carrie..." yet I find myself seeing glimpses of these elements we share. I don't think I am quite as much of a mess as she is, but who am I to be judge and jury? I don't have an obsession with jewelry, I don't smoke like she does, and I definitely don't have a preoccupation with marrying some fat, rich bastard. In all, I believe that Holly just wants this sense of security and manifests that desire in monetary aspects, as opposed to matters of the heart. Why? Easy. The heart can be broken. Money doesn't have feelings. I push people off because when I want a hand from someone, they have their hands full. When I do get a hand, it often let's go halfway out of the well.
I began to ask myself, "Am I manifesting my desires for security outside of a desire for a relationship and all that it entails?" and, boy, did I sit and stare at the skyline of Quito waiting for an answer. Still waiting.... However, I think it is safe to say that I am avoiding the majority (if not all) of Holly's mistakes. I think my personal security endeavors are more closely tied with my resistance to commit to another human being. "If we keep it light, no one gets hurt."
Famous last words.
I'm by no means opposed to commitment, I just know so many who are, both conscious and subconscious, who are that I am hesitant to trust.
Upon my six month anniversary of living here in Quito, I went to a few of our favorite spots with a few friends and was drugged with some sort of GHB-ish substance. This was, unfortunately, not my first tango with this bastard of a drug, so when I woke up with my iPhone in a rain boot and my pants half-on and backwards, I knew what had gone down. My stress level was a tad bit higher that morning, and my moral had an inverse correlation, scraping the pavement as I walked out to my rooftop terrace for breakfast. A friend and fellow traveler offered me some blueberry herbal tea and my first inclination was to decline. What the hell? This nice guy just wants to make you a cup of tea, you ditz. Let him.
So, I lifted my head up off my folded arms on the wooden picnic bench and squinted at his smiling face and agreed to a cup of sweet comfort. Thank my lucky stars that I wasn't raped or robbed the night before, but I was still emotional, and the moment I relented and allowed this sweet, German-American to make a caring gesture towards me I felt it: the flood gates opened.
It felt so incredible to let someone take care of me. It seems trivial, but I am 100% used to taking care of myself. Family aside, every person that I had ever trusted to catch me when I fell had failed miserably. I don't want to be jaded or cynical, but I don't want to be foolish, either. Letting someone make me a cup of tea helped me realize that I am, indeed, inertly wanting someone to trust. I don't need a significant other to be whole, that was established ages ago, but I do want someone to bring me a cold Gatorade and rub my neck when I am hungover. I want someone to surprise and make laugh. It is the companionship and a teammate I want, but that's the hardest part: knowing when it's real. This cup of tea isn't me signing my life away; it's just a moment of allowing someone to showcase cariño. It isn't admitting I am weak or incapable of the same actions myself; it is a human connection.
So, if Holly feels the need to go through all the crazy motions of throwing a cat in the rain and trying to marry the future president of nowhere (seriously, if you haven't seen "Breakfast At Tiffany's" get your act together and Netflix it...) that is her prerogative. I'd much rather just throw this collection of ideas out in the universe and when I come across some hottie who loves to travel, hates liars, wants to be unstoppable partners in crime, and digs my freckles... We'll have a cold beer and see where it goes. Until then, I'm going to shed my Holly Golightly shadow, however minor the resemblances may be, and try and let someone make me a cup of tea once in a while and not throw the nameless cat in the rain.
xx.a
