Opening Day was fun, but the truth is, I sat in that stadium full of people all by myself. I rode there with friends but I spent the day alone. Because I had no one who was there with Sally. No one who came explicitly to be with me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the people I was with. I love them dearly and they love me. There’s no question about that. But I still felt all alone.
I needed a friend who won’t go to the bathroom without you. A friend who’ll tell you when you’ve got mustard from the hot dog on your face. Or a guy who knows what you want to drink at the concession stand and will go stand in line and miss part of the game to get it for you. Yeah, there were women there who would’ve walked to the bathroom with me and guys who would’ve bought drinks for me if I’d asked them to. But there was nobody who would just do it without me having to ask. Nobody who would do it because that’s just what people who are deeply connected do.
I’ve had a few brief moments of feeling that connection with someone in my life, but they’ve been rare. And I’ve always doubted that it was real. That the feeling was reciprocated. Sometimes it was real and I just didn’t believe in myself enough to receive it. Sometimes it was real and it scared me so that I ran from it. Sometimes it wasn’t real, but I was so starved for connection, that it felt good and fooled me into believing it was real.
I don’t want to miss out on any more holy connections because I don’t believe I’m worth it. I don’t want to miss out because I’m afraid. And I don’t want to lose any more time making real connections by investing in false ones that will never fill those deepest places of my heart.
I’m tired of mustard on my face. And I want a guy who knows I drink Dr. Pepper.