At least, not anymore.
From childhood through middle-school, I was always in love with someone. I would fall in love with someone new every year, and inevitably get my heart broken every year.
Most of these were little girl versions of what I thought was love; the attention from a cute boy, the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach, the ache in my groin (yes guys, girls get it too). When I was 15, I thought I had fallen in love once more, but it seemed different. It felt like a “mature” love. This was with Matt, but even this love turned out to just be a high-school-sweetheart-need-to-lose-my-virginity kind of love. We broke up 3 years ago, and in that time I have dated innumerable guys. But I always find something wrong.
Most of the time, what goes wrong is that I feel like my personal space is being invaded. I talk a lot, and express myself well and so people tend to think that I’m an extrovert and a people-person. However, I need my time by myself. I don’t like texting; even phone calls seem so impersonal. And while most girls would be unbelievably happy to have a guy that they know is being faithful to them and loves talking to them 24 hours a day, I take a long time to open up enough to let somebody in to my life.
So what really goes wrong? I would love to say it’s the pressure I receive from the guys to be “Facebook official” or that they need to “have the talk with my brother” after only 2 weeks of dating, but what is really wrong is that I tend to have people fall in love with me, but I don’t fall in love.
In the past 3 years, I’ve come to realize this. I’ve had to think about what pushes me away from what others would deem perfect guys. Why am I searching so hard for a relationship if I apparently don’t even want one? Are adult relationships different; is this what attraction feels like? What happened to the butterflies? What happened to the sparks that flew with the first kiss?
It took me a long time, but I finally realized that I simply enjoy my own company, and I hate having intrusions on that time alone.
So what will it take for me to actually fall in love? Am I destined to die a spinster with 20 cats? Well, I’m working on that. For one, I know that I need to stop thinking of the times that a man wants to see me as intrusions. He isn’t intruding; he’s simply trying to be a part of my life.
I also need to get rid of the “plenty of fish in the sea” phrase in my head; because that implies that there is always a potentially “better” guy for me. I have this image of a perfect man idea in my head that is a mixture of Fred Weasley, Jon Snow and Christian Grey. I’m always waiting for this man to come tumbling out of oblivion and sweep me off my feet (and in to his bedroom).
Maybe that image is unrealistic. Or maybe I just don’t feel like settling for anything less than what I feel is my perfect match. Either way, do I constantly need to be asked if I’m “seeing anyone”, or be told that someone knows a person “just perfect” for me? Life isn’t an episode of Friends; the main character isn’t going to fall for her best friend.
Slowly, I’ve come to accept that I can’t settle, and if that means spending my life alone, then I’m fine with that.
So long as I have 13 cats.