I think I’ve made it my soul mission to find love. What kind of love? Well, the kind of love where I’m burying my face in Olive Garden salad, calamari, and seafood pasta across from a guy who doesn’t judge me that I prefer the Denny’s of Italian Restaurants. Or the kind where I ask him if he wants a cutie and, instead of correcting me with “YoU mEaN mAnDaRiN ORanGes?”, he replies with “I already have you” or something a little more suggestive like “I would love to have you” wink wink ;)

But instead I settle for the kind of falsified love that stems from insecurity and delusion. Where sucking d is equivalent to dating and getting penetrated is the same as getting married. For me, I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to fall in love with someone, or know what it feels like to have someone fall in love with me. I know I sound pathetic.

“You’ll find him when the time is right!”

“How can you love someone else if you don’t even love yourself?”

“Maybe this is the time to focus on yourself?”

I’ve heard it all and better yet I believe in all of it. Don’t I?

I feel like I’ve told myself so many different lies that kept me from fully jumping in. Have I really been focusing on myself and healing from things that I said I’d already healed from? Do I really enjoy spending time alone, or am I just saying that so that others can stop drowning in the same comforting words that I’ve heard over and over again?

I live in the Unrequited Love territory. You know the type. It’s the same trope we always see in classic and popcorn throwing romantic comedies. Except the endings to mine are sympathetic and the onlookers are quietly satisfied, rubbing my arm to comfort me like I’ve bumped into a wall.

There’s only been one – Michael. It was short-lived and it still feels unfinished. All I can say is that there are nights when I cry in self-loathing because I’m not the beautifully fit girl with colored eyes, or the hot guy with the washboard abs and the unpatchy beard. As for me, think of a kitchen cabinet with a circled Pillsbury Dough boy face.

Writing that made me really sad. Do I really think of myself in that way? Where I think I look better in the dark and with my clothes off than in the light with the sun glowing on my face. I guess I do. What do I do to take away my insecurities? What can I do to look at myself and feel grateful and beautiful for what I see?

I’ve prayed and wished upon the stars for the love of my life to walk into my life. As I type this I’m thinking the one that got away was the love of my life, but maybe it’s actually me falling in love with myself. Will always be just a body count? I’m not embarrassed to say that I want the white picket fence and the two story home. I’m not embarrassed to say that I want the sparkling wedding and the marriage fights that end up with us doing a dance battle. I’m not embarrassed to say that I want to marry and it is the only time because that was all I ever needed.

But right now I resort to Grindr and Sniffies (if you’re not gay don’t look at this). Until I can accept the fact that I might always be alone then maybe I’ll continue to hurt myself with the aching of wanting to be loved the way romance books spell out. Or maybe it’ll be in a different way. In a way that only makes sense to me.

I just rambled. Lol At the end of the day I’m a hopeless romantic. Even though I never get my way when the guy I like doesn’t like me back I somehow still blindly believe that the tables will turn.