He was an engineer, handsome, and could send coherent texts. He brought me a bottle of wine and indulged me in a night out at my favorite Mexican restaurant complete with margaritas the size of fishbowls. The second date ended with a kiss goodnight under the stars as Neela peeked through the window. It was nice.

The next day at work I was standing in the doorway unleashing my burning desire for change when the person whose ear I had caught said, “It’s nice to have options.” It took a minute for those words to stew in my already very occupied mind, but as the words found their place I felt comforted. I have options. I really do. I mean, I think I do. I do, right?

I have options. It’s 2020. There is a worldwide pandemic. Depression is at an all time high for many Americans. Most days, at any given moment I’m on the brink of a full blown anxiety attack myself. But, I think I have options. Humans like to have options. Having options means that you aren’t stuck to choose something that may not serve your needs in the best way possible. So what’s the problem?

Well, having options goes hand and hand with a very scary word. Change. In order to embrace a different option than the one I’ve been comfortably coddling for over a decade, I’d need to make a big change. I change my socks every day. I change my hair color according to the season. I even change the oil in my car although not as often as I should. So why can’t I change the direction of my life if I’m not fulfilled with where I currently sit.

I sat down at the table that day and decided to write down my options. I have no children or spouse yet. I have a house with a ton of equity that I could sell and be in a really good monetary position. I have a part-time job that I love that could lead to an amazing opportunity in the future. I have a full-time job that has brought me so much joy over the years, but the politics involved have currently left me tired. There are 49 states I haven’t lived in yet. I’m 36 years old. I’m healthy minus the 20 lbs I put on during Covid. I have an education and a degree in English for whatever that’s worth. I’m a motivated and hard-working individual. I also have a family that would always have my back if my next life choice left me feeling like the other shoe may drop at any given moment. So what’s holding me back?

In the best selling book I’m going to write one day, it would describe a girl in her mid-thirties who took a chance. She packed up the life she had worked hard to create for herself and took a real shot at happiness. She didn’t let others’ comments about how she should be grateful for the secure job and home she had, steer her in the wrong direction. She knew in her heart what she needed to be happy and she ran towards that without hesitation. The prepackaged existence she had chosen for herself at 22 years young was about to expire. She might feel the urge to regret a choice or two along the way, but ultimately she’d end up exactly where she needed to be. The best part is that for the first time in her life she didn’t let everyone else’s voice drown out her own.

As I laid my head down to sleep that night after that second date, I was calm. Instead of thinking about how I was going to get this guy to like me, I thought about his situation and if it would fit in my life full of options that I had recently discovered. He had two younger children and would be grounded in New York for the foreseeable future. I had options. This was the first time that this idea really sunk in. Did my new found desire to explore my options finally outweigh my tireless search for the perfect partner?

A few days later I received a text from that handsome man telling me that he had reconnected with someone from his past and that he wanted to see that situation through. In a world full of options, he was no longer one of them. As I let out a sigh of disappointment, I smiled and repeated the words, “It’s nice to have options.”