In the early morning hours of my 22nd birthday I had just returned to my dorm from doing I don’t remember what. I wasn’t expecting much from this particular birthday since my only plans were to get in a car in a few hours and take the long drive to Burmingham, Alabama for a theatre conference. The year after your 21st birthday you don’t really expect much in the way of specialness. Or I didn’t anyways.

 As I walked to my room there was a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I was curious about who it could have been at that hour. I opened the door and the next thing I know, I’m being kissed. And not only am I being kissed, I’m being kissed in a way that every girl dreams about. That out of nowhere, takes you by surprise, shock melting into surrender type of kiss. He was nervous at first, his hands shook a little on my face. But the man in him quickly took over and he was in charge. It was a glorious kiss. One for the record books. And as soon as it had started it was over. He said “Happy Birthday Sarah. I’ll see you when you get back” and was gone. Just like that. A hit and run.

While not much came out of that kiss romantically, it’s a wonderful memory I will keep with me forever. That was the Jake I knew. He was fearless in so many ways and always “went into the basement” as we had learned in Improv class. He was one of the funniest people I’ve known and I feel so fortunate to call him a friend. His legacy at Eckerd will long be remembered through his Improv troupe, Another Man’s Trash, his servants heart and his over all amazing-ness as a person.

Jake, my heart is so very heavy over the loss of you. I pray that you have found a peace that passes all understanding. I’ll never forget the times we shared together, the way I never knew how seriously to take you whenever you hit on me, or how you would squish yourself next to me in that red chair during class. I’m still grateful to you for letting me work with AMT as your “stage manager”. It’s something that I keep on my resume to this day. I miss you so very much.

Thank you for the kiss.

I walked out of my apartment this morning with a deadline ahead. I had to go to North, to the bronx then head South to work, dropping off my library book on the way. As I was getting to the subway I realized that I had forgotten to put on makeup this morning. I had gone into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face and went about getting ready. Not even a layer of mascara (my usual staple) was applied.

At first the usual flood of terror that rushes over a naked faced gal hit me. I thought about the contents of my purse. Was there a bag of makeup-to-go floating around in there? There was not. Did I have time in my deadline to stop at a drug store to purchase some emergency supplies? I wasn’t sure, nor did I want to spend the money to buy things I already had at home (an adult way of thinking??? could be). What would the guys at work think? Would they comment on how I looked different this morning or say that I looked tired? I began to get a tad stressed over the idea.

Then, as quickly as the flood of nervousness had come, it was gone. I didn’t really care to stress about it. In fact, I felt a little sense of relief. My face, the way it naturally looks, was out there in the world, the way it’s meant to be. And if someone was going to say something about it, oh well. There are plenty of other faces out there for them to look at. It was wonderful not worrying about my eye liner running when a rain drop hit my eye. When I had an itch I didn’t see all my eye shadow on the end my finger and I was glad.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not so bad off without makeup. Sure it can help, but it’s ok to not use it too. And I’m sure my skin appreciates the fresh air. It’s funny how in forgetting to put on “my face” this morning, I ended up remembering my face after all.

A month or so ago I went out to lunch with one of the bartenders I work with. Out of many of my other co-workers he and I seem to get along on a deeper level which makes it easy to talk to each other about  a lot of things. At one point we got onto the topic of past relationships and how they can form us into the people we are today. How we learn from out mistakes and take the good bits as reminders for the future. How it makes me a little uncomfortable when a guy buys me a drink, even in the friendliest way. How I tend to take it personally when the fellas at my other job won’t let me carry cases of wine, not because they think I can’t, but because they’re being gentlemen. And then my friend said something that made me feel so exposed…

You don’t know how to be taken care of. 

The words slapped me in the face and before I could give it a second thought I said:

You’re absolutely right.

And he was. Absolutely right.

At the ripe age of 26 I’ve got this whole-taking-care-of-myself pretty down. Sure I’m still learning things as I go along but for the most part I’ve been fairly self sufficient for a while now. I can rig a toilet with the best of them, change a tire like a pro, budget my money to a tee, and I’m even blazing the frontier of cooking, And to be quite honest, it feels amazing. I’ve felt more like my true self lately than I have in a long time.

But maybe, just maybe, I’ve become a little too good at it. I’ve always had this idea of being in a relationship that’s very much like a team. He and I making up for each others short comings, picking each other up when the other is down, taking care of each other. Being single for the last 3 years it seems as though I’ve just filled all those holes in myself. And maybe, just maybe that keeps someone from coming along to do it instead. Maybe part of taking care of myself is letting someone else take care of me sometimes too. Admitting that sometimes I do want/need to be taken care of. That maybe someone else will be better at it in ways than I am.

So I think it’s time that I start to change my way of thinking. I think I need to start stifling that little voice that creeps up in my head that says “don’t let them make you look weak” whenever someone lends a helping hand. Time to realize that there’s a difference between a friendly after work drink and taking hand-outs or being pitied. I have wonderful, quality friends who wouldn’t do such things and I need to recognize that more.

It’s ok to be taken care of sometimes. It’s even ok to enjoy it a little too. 

A few things I can’t get enough of recently…