The Fragile Romantic

I struggle with the temporal nature of today’s romantic relationships. Today a friend, tomorrow a lover, the next day…who knows?

I am a strong woman. And I want to be loved. I am intelligent and ambitious with dreams that stretch the diameter of the earth. And I want to be loved. I am beautiful and sensual. And I want to be loved. I love myself. And I want to be loved. I want to hold hands with my partner as we walk alongside the current. However cheesy that sounds, I, in fact, love long walks on the beach. I want to meet their parents and laugh at the antics my partner used to pull when they were younger, cooing at baby photos at the dinner table. I want to cuddle in bed watching a series of shitty movies and reality tv shows (I will unapologetically continue to Keep Up with the Kardashians!). I want to stare longingly in my partner’s eyes and write stanza after stanza about the way the light catches their cornea. I am undeniably, irrevocably a romantic. A fragile romantic.

Romance has torn me to shreds. And I am so tired of picking up the pieces. The first time that I can remember longing for someone’s affection was in second grade (it’s true, I’ve always been quite dramatic). His name was Samuel and he had the biggest brown eyes that I had ever seen in all of my 7 years of life. He was a third grader, how sophisticated! He would give me a big hug whenever he saw me filling my little second grade heart with so much tenderness. Then one day he asks me a godforsaken question, “Is Genesis single?” Well shit. And so it began. Year after year, I would feel like the last one to get picked for dodgeball…that is in the romantic sense. It seemed like no one was interested in me or if they were, it was never for long. Reasonably I was still a child. I didn’t know what it meant to be truly loved in the romantic sense but from a very young age, I already knew what it felt like to not be chosen.

Fast forward to high school and I was hot shit! My ninth grade year, I had a boyfriend in the fall and a girlfriend in the spring. Living my best life with a capital B in bisexuality. The next thing I knew, in the 11th grade I entered my very first long term relationship. She became the center of my universe. We did everything together. Beach dates, park dates, movie dates, double dates you name it. It was everything that I wanted and more, until it wasn’t. I don’t blame us for how toxic it got. We loved each other but we were also so young. Not having the most positive examples of relationships growing up, we tried our best to keep what we had going despite how unhealthy it had become. After 1.5 years, we finally called it quits. Though a painful breakup, I was on my way to college and looking forward to the countless romantic options that I was all too sure that my college of 1600 students engendered. Yeah right…

My love life freshman year can be summed up into just one phrase: revolving door. Suitors would leave my life almost as quickly as they had entered. Yet every time, I was convinced that I had found “the one.” Rightfully, my friends and family were starting to lose track. If I can briefly quote one of my favorite songs, “Living Single” by Big Sean:

Look, I know what it feel like to think you found the one

Told mom that so many times that I'm sounding dumb

Cause she started to mix Ashley up with Tanesha

And saying "Hi Britney" when I'm on the phone with Lisa

These lyrics so effortlessly capture the truth of what I was experiencing. I wanted so much to force love and compatibility onto everyone in my life that showed an interest in me. I wanted to show myself that my last relationship was not a fluke and that I could be “chosen” again. I know I know. Though Meredith is one of my all time favorite protagonists, the “pick me, choose me, love me” scene was undeniably pathetic. But this was really the crux of what I desired for such a long time. I have since realized where that longing comes from and how I need to personally fulfill those deep wounds of my inner child. But that hasn’t changed my longing for a partnership. I still want to be loved.

I unapologetically wear my heart on my sleeve. You always know exactly where you stand with me. And when I love someone, I do it with every fiber of my being. But what does that mean in the age of online dating? I have had my fair share of first dates where we discuss our lives, our favorite colors, and our hopes and dreams (that is if we even get that far). Yet nothing generative comes from it. Sometimes, even less than nothing! In my head, everything will be going alright and the next thing I know, I’m ghosted. Well okay…back to the drawing board aka Tinder, Bumble, Hinge (I’ve even tried BLK: a dating app specifically for Black people). Mindlessly I would swipe left or right hoping, half-heartedly, that the love of my life would be behind that “(insert name) liked you!” notification. Just to be disappointed, yet again.

I am still a romantic but a fragile one. I’m wary of being vulnerable. I’m cautious of who has access to my heart. I’m vigilant about presuming that I am ever on solid ground with any suitor that enters my life. Today’s romantic relationships almost require you to have one foot out at any given moment. We’re told to not care too much and whoever cares less, wins. It seems like no one ever stays long enough to truly connect with. To truly foster a partnership with. And to put it frankly, it fucking sucks. I tell myself not to shut down. I tell myself not to let my past failed romantic connections close me off to a world that is theoretically abundant with people waiting to love me and make me happy. I resent the idea that loving yourself means that you can’t long to be disgustingly adorable with a partner who cherishes you. I will continue to pour into myself. I will continue to take myself out on dates, get myself gifts and affirm my beauty, intelligence and potential. AND I want to be loved.