Something my boyfriend Jake and I like to do to intentionally connect is pull cards from a conversation game I have. Each card in the box has a question on it and is separated out into categories of green, yellow and red based on the level of intimacy to which the question pertains: everything from favorite childhood memories to deepest, darkest thoughts.
One evening, he pulled a card that asked, “What do you love most about yourself?”
I paused.
At 30, I might have said my technical savvy and content-creating skills. At 25, I might have said my eyes, my legs or some other physical attribute I was finally learning to love. At 18, I would have been silent, finding little if anything to even like about myself, let alone love. Love was much too big an ask.
But with age comes wisdom, and now at 35, it is a very long list of things I have grown to embrace and love about myself, but one stands out. I told him that what I love most about myself is my perspective and the romance and magic I infuse into my life.
Women like me bring a certain kind of rare romance to everyday life.
The ordinary become extraordinary. The mundane becomes magic. I think part of this is innate, a natural gift and perspective we were born with, but I believe the greater part is learned and honed, colored by our past experiences and the way in which many of us felt we had to escape the world in order to exist within it.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Junk Drawer to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.