On Being A Love And Relationships Writer Who Doesn’t Really Date

One of the last dates I went on was with a Brendan Urie look alike at a small café in a small town in Southeastern, Michigan. We had matched on Hinge. I don’t remember his name now, but I do remember nervously sharing sorta sad details about myself and looks of pity and then he never called. And to be honest, I totally get it. No offense taken, Brendan Urie!!!

I deleted the app shortly thereafter. 

I write a lot about relationships and love and heartbreak and dating and everything in between for my job, but I pretty much never put myself out there IRL. Call it fear of intimacy or vulnerability, remembrance of past hurt all too well, total laziness, lack of interest, #justdoingme, depression, low sex drive from depression medication, poor body image…whatever the reason or excuse du jour, I just don’t do it.

And I know this doesn’t make me special. I’m not unique. This isn’t novel or anything new. Lots of people are afraid of getting hurt, are fearful of rejection. In fact, I’d go as far to say even that the ones who do put themselves out there time and time again are also scared. But maybe they’re just braver than me.

I don’t know. 

It is an interesting position to be in, though, to write so much about something that lately I feel like I don’t know anything about.

I can write articles about what each zodiac sign needs to work on before they find love, but who the hell am I to give advice when I can’t even get a guy to text me back? Sure, coaches “don’t play” (h/t to my friend Emily for this anecdote) but they also always say to write what you know.

So where does that leave me? 

Well, I guess that leaves me here:

I know I’ve loved deeply and completely but I can’t even say something poetic like it went down in flames because it never even took off to begin with. I still know it was real, though. I know that for sure.

I know sometimes I text back too fast and come on too strong and fall a little too quickly but maybe that’s just the sign of an eager heart. And I know I’m too much but maybe one day that will be just enough. Maybe one day that will be okay.

I know that love hasn’t really worked out in my favor, at least not yet, but maybe one day it will. And for now, that’s enough for me.