I’m experiencing something I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced: I’m feeling incredibly, hugely, wildly antisocial.
Please don’t misunderstand — I am no social butterfly the rest of the time. I prefer a one-on-one dinner with a close friend to a giant party with the masses. But, I do enjoy that one-on-one dinner, very much so.
This weekend, I’m going to see my bestie at her parents’ lake house. Jeff’s not going, which I’m kind of happy about (I could never be one of those attached-at-the-hip couples … I like my me-time, yo, and his independence is one of the things that attracts me most). I get a road trip in lovely weather to see my best friend and her family, whom I love. I get a boat, and a lake, and to lounge around like a lazypants. I get to see her son, who very recently told Stephanie, “That’s Jaclyn!” when she showed him a photo of me. (As we live in different states, I’ve only met her son maybe half a dozen times. It makes my heart indescribably happy that he knows me, even if I have to steal my love.) (That is to say, he’s a shy boy, and if I don’t scoop him up and smooch on those cheeks, it’d never happen.)
Where the unexpected antisocial behavior is coming in? I took all dang week thinking, “I want to go … right? Do I want to stay home instead? Do I feel like making that drive?”
And each time I did this, I thought of painting my nails with Stephanie, staying up and playing Bananagrams or Rumikube with her family (they’re a family that’s majorly into games, which I love), riding our bikes around the lake. And just, ya know, seeing her. And I’m immediately excited again.
But then, a few hours later, I’m back to going, “Wellllll …”
Seriously, what the heck is wrong with me?? This is NOT like normal Jaclyn.
I’m blaming my last four summers. When I moved to my new home state in 2008, I was dating a boy in my former home state. Once a month, I visited him (he lived about an hour from my parents, so it was a dual visit), and once a month, he visited me. That’s half of all weekends each month, taken. The following summer began Jaclyn’s Summer of Weddings, which was more of a two- or three-year thing, when virtually all the friends I love in life got hitched. There were graduation parties to attend, and every single one of these events were out of town. In those few years, weddings or graduation parties took me to Cincinnati (twice), Chicago (twice), Phoenix, Mexico, Cleveland and Ann Arbor.
Summer 2010 was my and Jeff’s first summer together, and we are a couple who like to travel. In addition to coming with me to one of the Chicago weddings, plus the Phoenix and Mexico ones, Jeff and I have been to Boston, North Carolina, Vegas and Michigan. He has traveled with me to see friends near Cinci, and he has traveled with me to see my folks near Chicago.
This is all to say: I travel. A lot. Because I love it. I love seeing new sights and eating new foods and waking up in a hotel bed.
After we got hitched in early May, and after we honeymooned in Belize, however, we haven’t done much of anything. Our weekends are low-key. We sleep in like woah, go to breakfast at noon, and do whatever we want together. Oftentimes, that’s wandering antique malls, checking out the local summertime festival and hanging out with his family.
It. Has. Been. Awesome.
After three or four weekends like this, to plan to get in a car and have to drive somewhere is just oh so very difficult. I’m saying that in a whining voice, by the way. Because … it’s not that difficult. It’s awesome. And I’m just being a butthead.
(And yet, when I look at how busy August is, I cut myself some slack.) (And then when I look at the above photo again, I go “YAY!”)
What do you think? Do you like the busybusybusy, gogogo summers best? Or do you prefer the ones where you wake up in your own bed and say, “What do I want to do today?” Or is there something to be said for a happy medium?
(Stephanie, if you read this, I cannot wait to see you. Holy cow, please do not take any of this as anything more than me being a whiny butt. And please have Bananagrams ready.)