"What do you like to do for fun?" is truly one of the hardest questions for me to answer; it always has been. Fun, or at least fun in its most common contexts, is not really on my radar. I've accepted that, while I am not a bore to be around, I'm kind of boring.
I've added almost 9 miles per gallon to my car's average since I got it three months ago because of how slowly I drive. I have a bucket list note on my phone in which trying Biscuitville, purchasing slime, and making a wedding cake are a few of the things at the top. I frequently go to bed at 8:30 p.m. because there's not much better to do, and I hang out with someone my age probably once a month.
I sometimes feel that I have lived so much life, and yet I've barely done anything at all. The ever-present "compliment" of being so mature for my 20 years follows me into every single room, but I don't always find comfort in that comment. At this stage of life, being told that I am mature seems like another way to say that I'm just boring and that I've settled down. The truth is, I never actually settled down from anything. See, playing loads of Sudoku, looking forward to going to the car wash, and spending more time with kids or chickens or the elderly than actual peers is not exactly a riveting way to enter adulthood.
There was this promise that my parents made to me when I'd come home crying in middle school, and then again every day in high school. "College will be the best four years of your life." It was assured to me that this season of hardship would last only a little while---that, in college, I would have endless friends, meet my future husband, go to fun events, and experience so many beautiful things.
"You promise?" I would ask the same question over and over again.
"I promise," my mom would say, nodding assuredly.
Classmates' depiction of Evie circa 2024. The whole being no fun thing is not new.
I don't blame anyone for that promise, even if it didn't come to be. It's no one's fault; it just is.
However, I cannot deny the fact that I get a little jealous sometimes---not in a hateful, angry way. I just sort of wish I got to have what I was promised. It's admittedly a bit hard to see people celebrate huge athletic milestones, have boyfriends they met in some cute way on campus, plan dorm events, and go out to parties because I felt entitled to that at one point.
Knowing that that wasn't my path is one thing; accepting that is quite different.
Logically and Biblically, there are two things I've pieced together in pondering my boring nature.
1. Realistically, I've likely been saved from a lot of hardship, heartache, and poor choices by being "no fun." Allow me to put it simply with a blanket example: if I've not attended a party in which there was underage drinking involved, I can't face any of the possible legal or relational repercussions that could accompany it if the "wrong" person found out.
2. This life isn't all I have. I have better things awaiting me one day and for all of eternity. Wow. How cool is it to actually think about that? My mom mentioned the other day that she didn't understand certain lifestyle choices that are generally associated with dissatisfaction: constantly needing to surround oneself with events, parties, substances, and luxuries. I thought about it for a minute before realizing that if this life is all you have, you're going to want to pack it full with things you want. However, not getting everything we want all the time isn't very devastating for those who are saved because we can be confident of even better.
The bottom line is that, while I am trying to be more of a generally fun person who does more cool things, I can learn to be okay with the experiences I haven't had, knowing that it is for my good and that I have better awaiting me in eternity.
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