Expectation:
| noun |
| 1. |
belief about (or mental picture of) the future |
| 2. |
anticipating with confidence of fulfillment |
When I was four years old, I fully expected I’d grow up to be the best grade school teacher in the country, beloved by my students and praised for my superior instruction technique. At 25 I would be married to a prince disguised as a doctor, and live with him and our two perfect children in an old colonial up the street from my parents and my brothers and their families.
Four years later, I traded my future career in education for dreams of Solid Gold … the variety show. I was going to be a Solid Gold dancer and marry Andy Gibb.
At age 10, I was inspired to be an astronaut like Sally Ride. If she could travel to the stars in Challenger, then so could I. I covered my ceiling in glow-in-the-dark constellations and begged my parents to take me to the Quonset Point airshow. I would marry a pilot who would watch our kids and talk to them from orbit on a videophone.
By junior high graduation, algebra forced me to concede defeat. I might one day fly in a shuttle as a space tourist, but never as an astronaut. Instead my love affair with words and stories blossomed.
In high school I devoted my energies to drama (and melodrama), humanities, languages, photography, travel, and writing. My high school yearbook immortalized my lofty goals – I would learn Mandarin and study international relations, graduate from Georgetown University with degrees from its foreign service and law schools, and one day be named U.S. Ambassador to China. Oh…. and meet John F. Kennedy, Jr., and seduce him away from Darryl Hannah and have a *small* Newport wedding.
I couldn’t wrap my tongue around those Chinese tones so I changed my major to journalism and settled on a future as Lois Lane. I crushed on the wrong guys, brushed off the right guys and at graduation decided I’d meet Mr. Right out in the real world.
As a career woman I have fun, work hard, date, travel and like to think that time has tempered my expectations.
Now at 35, I just want to work for myself, travel the globe and buy some property. Oh, and meet a nice, employed guy to take to family functions, swap gifts with, and who doesn’t repulse me when he leans in for a kiss.
Is that really so much to ask?