A Fickle Mistress

I was never very successful with girls during high school. In fact, they mostly avoided me like the plague. That didn’t stop me, however, from being most interested in them. So during that first week of college freshman year, in the dorms, I quickly found myself enamored with a girl who lived a few flights of stairs up from me. A fickle mistress, of sorts, she would give me just enough attention to keep me around, but feigned little interest otherwise.

She was pretty. And smart. And all the sorts of things that I thought I valued. Yet, it became quickly obvious that she had no plans with me.

So I moved on.

Reunion

College was a whirlwind. I immersed myself in premed classes, and moved dorms across campus within the first few months. I made friends, worthwhile and otherwise. Time progressed and my interests changed.

These was no lack of consideration for the opposite sex, but I also grew and matured. I had long term goals with my academics, and began to form deeper more enduring friendships. I even dated, and found myself occasionally in more serious romantic relationships.

And one day, while hanging out with my housemates and entertaining, the fickle mistress from my past came waltzing across the room with her boyfriend.

I actually didn’t recognize her. She was hanging on the shoulder of a random acquaintance who I didn’t particularly like.

Times Change

I wouldn’t have even thought twice, except for the fact that she sat down next to me with inquisitive eyes. She introduced herself and asked if I remembered her. When I said that I didn’t, I could see a touch of melancholy in her eyes. Somehow, I knew that something once bright had been extinguished.

Maybe she actually liked me more than she let on way back then. Maybe the ensuing years had been a little harder on her than she thought they would be.

Time and popularity are also a fickle mistress. Sometimes they can be harsh.

We parted with a friendly smile, and I never really thought about her again, until I sat down to write this blog post.

Financial Freedom

Like this random person that was briefly in my life, I think financial freedom can also be a fickle mistress.

In the beginning, I lusted after it. I dreamed of all that I could accomplish if it was just within my reach. Yet, as time went on, I really no longer even recognized my previous version of what I thought it was.

Life intervened. Dreams. Projects. Relationships. The deeper business of becoming who I am supposed to be took over.

Like the beautiful, intelligent girl who briefly waltzed through my dreams during that first week of college, it was a construct. A false skeleton lacking the depth and substance that I was truly looking for.

Years later, I have evolved to the point that previous ideas of what financial freedom are hardly recognizable.

It’s not quitting work or even being happy.

It’s having the space and time to discover who I truly am. Who I truly want to be.