let's talk about dating

I've been on this organization kick recently; take my bookmarks folders as an example of the extremes my focus can take me to. 

In the throes of this organizational passion, I was clicking through my facebook profile, preparing to edit any and all old information that should be discarded, when -

I found this little category under my name that said "Interested in."

Huh, I thought, I don't remember that. And I got all excited, thinking about what I could list:

Interested in good books. In good music; Jars of Clay, Anais Mitchell, Eddie Vedder. Light, and how even concrete grain elevators look beautiful in late afternoon. Cacti, owls, coffee in the morning. Writing. Words. Science! Reading about particle physics, although I'd rather not do the math. Women's rights. History. The Appalachian Trail. Mennonites. Poetry. Prayer. The way poetry can be prayer.  

Interested in all the things I don't know. All the things I want to learn. Python. How Coffee cup stirling engines work. The 76 Best Board Games of all time. Fingerpicking. How to be a better listener. Calligraphy. Trees - I mean their names; douglas fir, pin oak, trifoliate orange. Literary Theory. The Illiterate, well enough to say by memory. How to make crème brûlée. 

Interested in the world. 

I clicked on the little box and it opened a tiny window.

I looked at the little box and was filled with an aching sense of disappointment.

--

I'm going to turn 23 in 40 days and I've never dated anyone. My culture expects me to be ashamed of that. My culture expects me to be waiting, to be whiling my time away.

Guess what? That's not happening. I have too much to do.

Tomorrow I'm taking the metro into D.C., all on my own. I'm going back to the Hirshhorn, and the Postal Museum, and I'm going to find a cafe to sit and write in. 

I am a lot more than a click of the little men-box, and I refuse to be reduced to that. The world is too big and interesting and fragile to wait around.