I used to think I was low maintenance. I don’t need expensive gifts, uptown dinners, wear a lot of makeup, spend hours on my hair, and dress in designer outfits that cost more than some small countries spend on food. I considered myself kind of the geeky girl next door.
I was kidding myself.
“You are high maintenance.” Taximan told me back when we were dating. “Not in things – but in emotions. You want words, thoughts, feelings, communication. Sometimes, we just wish we could give you money instead.”
Any guy who dates me has to like to communicate. I like to talk, chat, share. I want to hear from them on a daily basis. I want to know that they are alive and thinking of me.
I want to see them and spend time with them at least once a week. I want them to make plans with me, and not just wait for me to make plans for us.
I don’t want to be last place on their priority list. I realize I might not always be first, especially if someone has kids, but I don’t expect to be 7th either.
To expect all that, plus chemistry and romance too, well that seems to make me very picky. For a free love kind of girl, I seem to throw a lot of applications on the rejection pile.
I’m okay with this. I got spoiled by being exposed to some very solid relationships in my life. I want the same for me. I’m willing to work at it, but I want someone who has equal investment in the situation.
If that makes me high maintenance, I own it. HMJP, that’s me.