By Shannon Hunter
This article was originally published on October 11, 2012
I’m not a very domestic gal. My room looks like a clothing bomb went off and I frequently let my apartment descend into dust covered madness. My fridge has more alcohol and condiments than it does food; I am no Florence Henderson. But occasionally, when I really like a boy, I cook for him. It doesn’t sound like a big deal to those with domestic prowess; for me, it’s huge.
Last night, I made dinner for Mr. Unexpected. He had never had macaroni and cheese that didn’t come from a box, and to anyone who’s ever had the real thing, that is a crime.
He lay on my couch while I cooked, after I promptly told him to, “Get the hell out of my kitchen.” I mixed, boiled and baked it all into a wonderful bubbly dinner treat and it felt great. I enjoyed being a little domestic, even if it was only for an evening.
What I like about Mr. Unexpected is that he lets me be myself. He likes the quirky weird girl, the dedicated driven work obsessed girl and the kitchen queen. He likes it all and never asks me to be anything I’m not.
With City Boy and Country Boy, I always felt like I was giving them only pieces of myself; holding back the parts that I think are strange, hiding the parts that are insecure or scared. Mr. Unexpected calls me out when I try to hide any part of me and it’s incredibly freeing to just be myself and know that he won’t be put off by even the darkest parts of me.
Too often, we date boys that only want the best parts of us. They want to see the shiny bits but they aren’t at all interested in why you are who you are. They don’t care how we became who we are today, and they don’t want to know what goes on behind the curtains; they want the perfect version of ourselves that we present to the world.
Mr. Unexpected may not be perfect for me, the way I thought Country Boy was. He may not be as together as City Boy was and he’s definitely not who I would have picked for myself, but he makes me feel like I am perfect just as I am and that is priceless to me.
For as long or as short as this dance we’re doing lasts, I will walk away knowing that there is someone out there who sees me for who I am. He doesn’t judge and actually likes all of the strange puzzle pieces that come together to make me, me.
Isn’t that what dating is all about? It’s about finding that person who is equally weird and confused. He doesn’t run away just because you have the entire Gilmore Girls series on DVD or that you sleep with a stuffed Sonic when you’re sad or that you think pickles and peanut butter is basically the most deliciously strange snack out there.
Maybe I’m wrong, but for now it’s nice not to have to hide anymore.