I don’t have one singular life goal.
If I did, it certainly wouldn’t be to stick my metaphorical dick in the same metaphorical hole over and over again for all eternity.
It’s just not a priority for me.
The *pat pat* condescension that accompanies “you’ll understand when you are older” works both ways, you know. It’s the same *pat pat* condescension I could use to shake my head and feel sorry for your perspective — a perspective shaped by advancing age, decreasing years, and dwindling options.
Perhaps you look back on your life and you’re happy with your decision to put love first because ultimately, love is most important to you. But perhaps you look back and you’re happy with your decision because you weren’t ambitious, or because you fell short of your ambition, or because you’re tired of rat races and sometimes familiar love is easier to settle into than anything else.
Granted, perhaps I can’t see what you see because I don’t have the wisdom or life experiences that come with age (tell me, how many candles must I have to earn the right to prioritize my life the way I choose?).
But perhaps you can’t see what I see because your life experiences have skewed your perception, or limited your options, or crushed your ambition, creativity, and spirit.
I don’t know. You don’t know either.