I'm Not Socially Acceptable

I gotta be honest, growing up across the street from my best friend, I dodged the "socially acceptable" on many occasions.

I never had to "look acceptable" to go hangout.
I never cleaned up my room for her company because we were together every day.
I didn't scour the internet (partially because it didn't exist) for the hottest new gourmet recipe, we simply ate Ramen and pizza and chips and salsa every lunch. Every. Lunch.

I remember hearing a friend of mine who lived on her own (I was still living with my dad) say that she had to go home and clean because her soon-to-be inlaws were coming for a visit. Naive and ignorant, I stared dumb-faced. "I never thought of cleaning before guests come over". Ever.

Insert neatfreak jokes or OCD judgements, but really that's not why I never thought of it. It was more so because I just never thought that other people would have opinions about my space.

Hmm.

And then years ago, I remember going to a party where the foods served were more like pieces of art. It was stunning. I stared dumb-faced. "I never thought about showing off my creative abilities like that before". Ever.

Hmm.

I gathered my living-under-a-rock self and I carried it to Tennessee to go to college. I learned about places like Nordstrom and Sephora. I learned that your bag should coordinate and cooking is essential to every marriage. I learned a lot more too, but that's for another post (tagged Jesus, Bible, Natalie, piano, yellow Saturn, the engagement).

Here in the now, I'm rolling over a friend who opened her door this morning to another. She said she was in pajamas and her house was a hot mess, but she still said yes. And that's where my heart leapt and my 13 year old self jumped into the conversation. "Isn't that the best kind?"

Aren't the best relationships the ones where we can stay in pajamas, bring our Ramen, and sit happily in the messy house? Isn't that REAL? I mean, fancy playdates are fun and magical, but that's what they are. They are a break in reality, the place where we get dirty and wear comfy clothes and clean everyOTHER week.

No worries about opinions.
No thoughts on judgements.
Just comfortable in our own skin.
Just that feeling of being loved and loving back.

That's what I want from myself. From this new revolving door house.
So come in. Come on over.
I like to wear comfy clothes.
I don't clean these hardwoods every week (but I'm tryyyyying).

Cheers to "sucking everything we can out of each day"!