I Don’t Want To Find Myself, I Want To Find Love – Why Is That So Crazy?

I’ve been thinking a lot about soulmates lately. Not that I want a boyfriend or anything – they’re much too clingy – and while sometimes I think I may be gay – not a girlfriend either.

I think the title is what scares me the most. The dreaded label. When people change the contact name of their significant other in their phone to ‘boyfriend,’ ‘girlfriend,’ ‘honey,’ ‘baby’ etc. Was I nothing but a mere Jess or even worse jess- with the lowercase “J” before you came along?

And the whole how-do-you-introduce-your-significant-other thing is terrible. If you don’t introduce him as your boyfriend then he gets mad…but if you say he is then you’re pressuring him into a relationship and he may not want to be public.

But then there’s the whole, oh, this is my girlfriend thing. Like ok, seriously. No one cares if I am your girlfriend. They really don’t. The girl across the room you want to care literally could not care less and if it’s your parents you want to impress you might as well stop. They thought you were going to play major league baseball when you were twelve and you couldn’t even make the school team. That ship has sailed.

Just because I don’t want a “boyfriend” necessarily doesn’t mean I want to be single.

In all honesty, who the hell likes being single? That’s right, no one. Why do you think dating apps like Tinder, Bumble and Grindr exist? To promote your mixtape?

“Happily single” people, those who constantly preach self love and solitude and whatever it is they say to you after a break up, are lying. Who wants to tell their friends and family, or even strangers for the matter, that they’re actually really lonely and tired of eating their dinner in bed alone after work? No one.

I’ve been single since August, so about 7 months. This is the longest I’ve been single since I was 14.

A lot of my friends think I should be single to focus on myself and my needs and figure out what I want in life, but I really don’t want that.

I just don’t see why I can’t find myself while being with someone else. Why can’t I love myself and him too? Why can’t I grow as a person alongside him?

Flowers grow alongside each other for years and sometimes never intertwine, but it doesn’t mean they’re not in the same bed.

People think I’m crazy, but I really don’t agree.

Wanting someone is not crazy. Wanting someone who gives a fuck about what’s happening in the world is not crazy. Wanting someone who gives a fuck about you is not crazy.

Wanting someone who would rather look you in the eye at the table when you are ranting about Winston Marshall banjo strumming than at his phone, is not crazy. Wanting someone who would actually play along with that conversation is not crazy either.

What I’ve come to realize in my 19 years of life is we’re all human, and human nature is really depressing. We’re all miserable. It seems as if no one is truly happy these days. People want to say they’re happy, post pictures of their tans and airbrushed abs while sipping chai-tea lattes and watching Friends on Netflix.

And maybe that right there is the very reason we’re so depressed. Maybe the thought that these things, these material objects will ultimately bring us happiness, is the reason for our sadness.

How come when I tell my friends I’m sad they offer me ice cream, but when I tell them I’m tired of being single they think I’m crazy? Is it better to replace sadness or an empty void with a material object than a person?

Perhaps our fear of falling must be accounted too. We are constantly fearful of the unknown for fear of that holy-shit-I’m-in-love-with-you sensation. You know that feeling? Well, to be honest, I want to feel that again.

And if that makes me crazy? Well, then so be it.