Everybody who knows me well knows I want to find that special someone. And you also know that I'm not afraid to just walk up to a random guy and say hi-- in the mall, at the library, in the coffeeshop, wherever.
I wasn't always so outgoing. I was the type of girl who would walk into the party and make best friends with the chair closest to the wall... and I'd sit in that chair and people-watch. I'd watch dancing and laughter and drinks sloshing and spilling all over the floor. I'd watch hook-ups and make-ups and break-ups, all the while feeling as though I wanted to be a part of the action. I'd sit in my-new-best-friend-the-chair and lament that no one was approaching me and my ice was melting. I shouldn't have come anyway.
And then my backside would start to hurt (See, even the chair got tired of my pity party).
I'd hop up from the chair to tell myself I was going to make a new friend, when really, I was just inching sideways toward the exit. And just then, in the dimly-lit, crowded, hot sea of people, the most wonderful thing would happen. My crutch would slip on a piece of ice, a napkin, a straw, a lost earring, whatever--- and I would fall.
Suddenly, my body would be sprawled out across the floor like one of those chalk drawings at a crime scene, with a man flanking me at each side offering his assistance.
Voila! The concept of husband hunting was born.
husband-hunting: (noun) 1) falling usually done in a face-first position, also known as a face-plant, and landing in a precarious, and at times, embarrassing position. Husband-hunting falls are most often accomplished in a dress or skirt, such that the lady-like or modest nature of the person falling is somewhat compromised in the course of the fall, and are also connoted by the fact that the first individuals to rush to the aid of the fallen person are usually members of the gender preferred by the person falling.
I have husband-hunted on the Metro. I have husband-hunted in the rain. I have husband-hunted in a few office buildings. I have even husband-hunted on a train The key to husband-hunting though is that it takes even the hunter by surprise. You never know when your next expedition is going to occur.
Does all this hunting actually point you toward a partnership-worthy person? That is somewhat up for debate, since current studies are inconclusive. (Read: Most of the guys who've helped me up are married). But, for me, that's not really what all those times have been about. I mean, sure, it would be cool to have this damsel -in-distress moment and be rescued by someone who would later go on to become the man of my dreams.... but.... for me, thinking of my embarrassing falls this way has really helped me to come out of my shell in some small way-- to begin speaking to people who I would have been afraid to approach otherwise; or to just let go of constantly worrying about what someone else thinks or might be thinking they do or do not see in me (with a couple of notable exceptions probably to be detailed in the next blog entry).
I'm not saying that in order to be ok with who you are it's necessary just to go all willy-nilly flailing yourself across all of the slick floors in America. My point is that we all have those mortifying moments that push us to the brink of our comfort zone, and sometimes beyond. In those times, it is important that we don't shut down, degrade ourselves, or bury our thoughts in our own perceptions. Reach out. Meet a new person. Learn something new about yourself and how you handle different types of situations. There is always positive in every negative situation, and most often, the positive aspect is the lesson that God, or fate, or life in general is pushing you to learn.
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