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a letter to love

Friday, January 9, 2015

I am a lover without a lover.

I am lovely and lonely and I belong deeply to myself.

For the first time in a long time, I am very aware of being alone. Not scared, not anxious, not unhappy, it sits there, this sensibility that I am single. A curiosity as to how long it will last, a wonder of who I will meet and what might happen.  And if I might meet anyone at all. I have a hard time sustaining relationships, they’ll braid through a few years or a few months and then unravel slowly, sleepily, lazy struggles gather until I wake up and realize it’s time to go. I’ve had my heart broken only once, it hit me suddenly early one morning via text message and I carried that ache around like a cramp for three whole months. I’d clean my apartment violently, eat minimally and escape into a sea of new friends I made at nightclubs and bars of all sorts in Paris.

By that summer, I was revived and regretting it all. I think I’ve only ever broken one heart and ironically, his was the best heart of all.But, So on I went. Off I delved back  into the trials and work and time that go into trying to find a man to call your own.  There have been boyfriends since, failed first dates that still have me laughing, men I enjoyed for a few months as well as men I would have loved to have known better. All memories I cherish, stacked up on a shelf like the books I’ve read – but really, a collection of experiences that haven’t made me any richer in my pursuit of lasting love. Often, I can’t help but wonder if I am doing something wrong? Maybe and probably so, I am not the easiest lady to date. I travel a lot, always in transit, between places, between suitcases.

I work a lot because I love to do so and it keeps me distracted and up late at night. My best friends always come first and so I prioritize my free time for them. I’m not very self-conscious but I do  have a temper that can roll in suddenly like a storm. I’m moody, prone to a vague confusing sort of melancholy, aloof in ways I don’t even realize and I often enjoy being a loner. But above all, I’m not searching for a man like a puzzle piece to complete me. There is no frantic hunt in my heart to snag a husband. I’m happy the way I am – I’m not looking to be soaked up  into someone else’s life. I’m looking for a man who can meet me in the middle, a relationship where our lives unite but don’t become one. And I know that exists, I’ve seen it, I’ve heard about it. I know it does.  At 26, I am at an age where some of my closest friends are discussing marriage, friends who live with their boyfriends, friends who have been with their men for years and years. I’m not ready for that, nor am I scared, just aware that I’d like to find someone who held those sorts of promises for me. Aware of so many things but wise the none.


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