I’m a Closet Romantic.
Yes, me. The girl who sabotages her own love life, the one who makes a disgusted face when someone mentions the word “love” and rolls her eyes at the concept of a soulmate, the girl who knows denial like the palms of her hands. When someone says the word “boyfriend” I will laugh and tell anyone who listens that I’m happy being single, and I am.
But at the same time I’m a romantic, and I’m finally admitting this.
Don’t fool yourself, I’m not magically curing myself through some acceptance self-help book bullshit. The walls will still be here tomorrow because they have to. You see, it’s a self preservation thing, and I don’t expect everyone to understand, so I’ll just pretend I could never love you.
Have you ever wondered why I never look you in the eye? Or why I told you I definitely don’t believe in love when the conversation reached relationships? I won’t text you, I won’t invite you to places, I won’t be that girl you’ll be dating after a week of knowing each other. If you were to grab your sledgehammer and really try to get through me, to that dusty place only my closest friends get to visit on rare occasions, you’d see my walls are paper thin. But I don’t think anyone would take the time or effort. We expect people to be ready for sex, for love, for friendship.
And I get it, but I’ll never be that person, that’s why I don’t expect anyone to fall for me.
I’m not jaded. I’ve had relationships, none of them too serious. I’ve fooled around, I’ve drunkenly made out with guys in clubs, I’ve flirted and had more almost lovers than most of my friends. But I know when to leave things alone before it’s too late. When I like someone I daydream through the night, wishing I was good enough. I silently observe them and think of how great their taste in books and music is, I gush to my friends and make them promise to never—even under torture—reveal my secrets.
Each guy I ever was in love with has a song that reminds me of them, I probably wrote about each one of them without them even dreaming it was about them. But you honestly couldn’t pay me to tell them how I really felt about them.
I’ve had friends tell me that I’m a coward, but I’m fine with that because I don’t expect to be loved back, so I see how pointless it is to reveal my feelings to people like we all did easily when we were teenagers. You’d be surprised how easy it is to get over someone if you really put your mind to it, especially when nothing happened between you and they don’t realize you’re into them — or at least pretend not to.
First you start crushing and denial happens, but after a while you admit to yourself and your closest friends that it’s happening. Then you allow yourself to dream a little, until reality slaps you in the face and they talk about their ex-girlfriend or kissing a hot girl at a bar. That’s when the real work starts.
My best strategy is to pick apart the things I don’t like in them, or at least try to. Realizing how human and flawed someone is can really help you getting over them. And I know how this sounds, I know you will judge me and probably read this in exasperation, trying to mentally push me into whatever relationship you think I could potentially be happy in, thinking how I need to allow myself to love people. And I do, just not in the way you expect me to.
For all intents and purposes, I’m a cold hearted bitch. But now you know my secret.