One of my dear friends is falling too fast for a boy. 

Her words; not mine. 

As far as I'm concerned, I love seeing my friends fall fast and furiously. She deserves the best kind of love - wild and romantic - and I tell her, every time we talk, just to enjoy it. But she can't. She's scared because she hasn't known him long enough to feel this way. Should she really be this excited? This sure? This comfortable trying on his last name?

She's shoulding all over their new relationship to the point that she can't enjoy it. 

Her stress and worry are taking all of the fun out of it - and she knows it. Yet, she can't stop because she's so scared she will break it.

Golly, I've been there. I know how it feels when you accidentally think you might be in falling - inches away from free fall, really - and you want to stop - grab on to something, anything to keep it from happening. When you worry about asking too much from him, because you're scared it might be more than he's ready for. 

The ride from the airport. 

The dinner with your mom. 

The wedding with ev.er.y.one you know. 

When you're so scared you're going to break it. 

And what I'm trying to help my sweet friend believe is what I wish I'd seen then. That you don't have to apologize for your needs. That the right guy won't be afraid to say what you need to hear or care for you in the way you yearn to be cared for. That you're not too demanding or noisy or too, too much. 

I see girls all around me trying to diminish their needs. 

I see girls trying to be smaller. 

Quieter. 

But in these last few months, what I've learned is that we shouldn't apologize for who we are (one should to which I'm willing to adhere). Sometimes I'm loud, because my voice carries. And sometimes I have to ask for crazy amounts of help: money for Africa, a car to borrow when mine gets stripped, a new vacuum because mine caught on fire. 

And it's OK. It doesn't make me a failure. It doesn't make me high maintenance. It just makes me human. And being human doesn't ruin a relationship. In fact, I've often found that when I finally let my guard down - when I stop playing the perfect game and admit I need a little help - is when things really get good. When I let someone see that I'm pretty quirky and I like to play games everywhere I go. When I admit that I get lost all the time and can't map my way out of a box. When I let someone see my [not so] sexy dance moves...

Is when they start to see me.

When we let people see everything we call a flaw is really when we are letting them see our vulnerabilities. It's when they see us as a person, not an act. It's when we make room for them to give us grace.

And you know what? I've often found that it's when they start to do the same. They start to show you that they get lost a lot, too. Or maybe they have a bad singing voice. And snore!

But our imperfections are part of what make us beautiful - they make us real.

And, as far as I'm concerned, two real, real people falling for one another too quickly sounds a lot more fun to me that two people pretending to be perfect. In fact, it sounds like the perfect adventure. GPS or no GPS.