DEVASTATING: I Never Got Kidnapped By One Direction and Now I Just Have this Regular Job and a Good, Normal Life
It’s Tuesday morning. I wake up as my alarm goes off at 7:00am, just as it always does. There is a sliver of light that peeks through the blinds and shines onto my beautiful boyfriend, who is sleeping right next to me. I let out a disappointed sigh. While he’s still sleeping, I get out of bed and head towards the bathroom, where I wash my face and brush my teeth. I look up at the mirror and see my reflection. Me, thirty years old, thriving and beautiful. It seems as though I have it all. It makes me sick.
As I am brushing my straight frizziless hair, I wonder where everything went so wrong. Sure, the woman I see in front of me is fantastic and extremely accomplished, but she is also empty inside. It’s a cliché to hear, “Your fifteen year-old self would be so proud of who you’ve grown up to become,” and for me, it’s simply just not true, despite being so talented and also hot.
You see, I spent my teen years hoping and praying that I would be like the Y/N main character in the stories I read on Wattpad. My mother, who would have been awful and on drugs, would call me downstairs, and be very rude about it. In a rush, I’d throw my hair into a messy bun and there would be a random man at the bottom of the stairs to take me away—that random man being Harry Styles of One Direction, of course. He would first be so cruel to me, but then I would see his soft side and we would end up falling in love and getting married with an orchestral version of “They Don’t Know About Us” playing in the background. But that never happened—not even with one of the other, lesser members of One Direction.
Instead, I was a first chair flute in my high school band, and then went on to go to college with a fat scholarship and really good grades. It was in college where I met Andrew, my current boyfriend and the love of my life, and we have been happily together ever since. He is the best guy in the world, but I would give up all of that to have been tied to a radiator in Harry Styles’ bedroom instead, where he would feed me oatmeal or whatever. I could then also help the other 1D boys—who are also criminals—learn how to love themselves and others. Instead, I just have a perfect career in marketing at a job that offers an incredible dental plan. Waking up in this reality is becoming more and more difficult every day.
What went wrong? Was my home life just too good for me to be able to live out my fantasy of being sold and/or kidnapped by a British guy in a boy band? To be fair, my parents never got a divorce and and had a pretty good marriage overall. They always encouraged me to do my best and worked hard to give me the resources I needed to succeed. Barf!! My mom especially was famously not an alcoholic and didn’t ever sell me to anyone, even if they were in the band One Direction. She made crocheted cactuses, for crying out loud! That’s how I ended up here: a regular and happy adult with a stable job, a hot romantic partner who is obsessed with me, and like, a really cute apartment.
Ugh! I hate how unexciting my life is all because I had a “good” and “normal” childhood. I have really nothing to tangibly worry about, yet I feel so much anguish over how I’ve completely aged out of ever experiencing my dream scenario. There is a big, Harry-Styles-shaped hole in my heart for what could have been. If only my early life was worse, I would get what I’ve always wanted. Instead, I have to settle for my little, picturesque life.