High Maintenance

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.”

 It’s true.

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 7^th 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.