I hear it all the time. At least once a week. “La, why are you single? You’re such wifey material.” I get it so often that hearing the phrase is like nails on a chalkboard. Truthfully, I used to think so. I used to think whoever ended up with me would be a lucky man. Even the rare times I allowed myself to endulge the thought of settling down with a notso insignificant other, I always thought I would could really live up to the “wifey material” hype.
But maybe not.
Maybe I’m just not that chick.
Maybe I’m just not the type of girl that ends up with someone. Maybe I’m just not that chick can mold her personality to fit into the confines of a relationship. Maybe I just expect too much. I always thought I was a cynic, but maybe I’m a hopless romantic. Maybe I’ve so built up in my mind my expectations of what I want or need to be happy, that it just won’t come to fruition.
I just don’t think I’m that chick.
I keep hearing I’m wifey material, but I don’t think that’s it. I think maybe what people see in me is an unattainable quality, a challenge to overcome, the quest to be The One that settles me down. Except, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Not for me.
I’m not that chick.
“Maybe the problem wasn’t that I couldn’t break Big. Maybe the problem was, he couldn’t break me. Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe, we just need to run free until we find someone just as wild to run with.”
– Carrie “Sex and the City”