“The value of a watch is not in being able to tell how much time has passed, but in being aware of the need to make that time count. Moments are bigger than minutes and your watch should tell more than time.”
JORD, a company that creates beautiful modern wooden timepieces, has this quote on their site. A few weeks ago they reached out to me for a collaboration. They generously sent two his-and-her wooden watches for my boyfriend and me, and I was ecstatic to receive them. This company excites me as I see their passion. Their love for what they do and what they create is so apparent, and I really believe they want to create special, meaningful products for their customers. This quote, I think, is captured beautifully in each of their pieces, and I truly understand what they mean by moments being larger than minutes and the importance of not just counting time but making time count.
I’ve been dating the same guy for about a year and a half now, though I prefer to not to think about how much time we’ve been together and instead how much we’ve grown together. Though a year and a half may not seem that long, I feel like we’ve been through a lot. Not every moment being absolutely fantastic, of course. I would be lying if I said that every second was perfect, because let’s face it: relationships are hard. Even the best ones are. And up until recently I don’t think I completely understood that.
Everyone has a type, right? That specific kind of person that they constantly date over and over again? My roommate had dated three different guys, all of whom were reserved and quiet and wore glasses. My friend seemed to only be interested in blondes. And my cousin had a weird fixation on dentists. And me? I always found myself being drawn to loud, obnoxious chatty types.
Now I’m all for self-awareness. I think there is a lot of importance in understanding yourself and understanding what you want. It gives you direction, drive, and ambition. But let’s be real here: I didn’t really know what I want. As a person who had never been in a relationship, I really shouldn’t have restricted myself to a specific genre of people. And yet, that’s what I did.
When I met him, I couldn’t help but be attracted. We were introduced by some mutual friends, and my initial impression was one of hope. He was sweet, silly, and very attractive. But he was reserved. Quiet and conservative. He wasn’t nearly as upfront as the other guys I’ve been interested in. Didn’t have the same swag or demeanor. Didn’t share that obnoxious level of confidence. He just wasn’t my “type”. Nope. Not at all. And yet, I found myself wanting to see him more, happy in his presence.
This happiness, however, just didn’t seem justifiable to me. How could I be happy with this guy who was so different from what I was used to? I admittedly spent way too much time thinking about our relationship. I compared him to other guys and obsessed over our “lack of compatibility”. He was way too quiet. He wasn’t flirty enough. His sense of humor just wasn’t right. It came to the point where I harassed my friends for advice that I never took anyway, where I demanded reassurance from them before every date, where I would second guess the legitimacy of my own happiness, where I was contemplating breaking things off with a guy who made me happy. All because he wasn’t my “type”.