I want to know what exactly it means to be in love. To love someone and be in love with them are two completely different things. As I’ve said, for something that should bring such light and happiness, it is very gray; it is neither black nor white. It’s quite interesting when you ask someone what love means to them. Everyone interprets it differently. I thought I knew what it was, and I think I did to an extent. I don’t believe that bullshit when people say you only get one true love in your life. I mean, maybe you do – maybe everyone before that person was just a facade of love – draped in flesh and potential heartbreak, all to prepare you for that one person. I believe in love. I believe that it is possible to find someone, that you are so in love with, and you spend the rest of your lives together. That may be foolish, I’m aware. Especially since I’m so cynical. But is it so bad and so foolish to want someone that looks at you like you are the greatest person in the entire world? To find a man that’s like, damn, I’m so lucky to have her. Because, if she’s a good woman, she’ll show him that she’s just as lucky. Is it so awful that I don’t want to accept the fact that all modern-day romance is completely fucked: like, no lube no warning fucked. Is it so bad to want that person that is so enamored by you, and so in awe of you.
Okay, I’m just gonna say this: I know most of what I write probably makes it out to seem like Nick was an awful piece of shit boyfriend. He was not, he was a wonderful boyfriend, and because of him, I know certain things and qualities that I deserve when it comes to being in a relationship. I also know what I don’t deserve. I was very, very fortunate to have him as a first boyfriend. I will never deny him of that, I will never intentionally bash him on here out of spite or hatred or bitterness. We are both two completely different people now, and that’s what happens. But I can say, that way back when, he was great. However, I used to take full responsibility for whatever issues we had going on. But I’ve realized that it wasn’t entirely my fault. I thought I was the luckiest fucking girl in the entire world, because there was this guy, whom of which I loved very deeply, that seemed to somehow love me despite the flaws that I had, internal and external. But he really didn’t. He did, but he didn’t. He was not the type of person who liked conflict. He wasn’t the kind of person that did well with confrontation. He could be selfish sometimes. As was I. Let me tell you something, though. One of the most harrowing feelings is wondering when that person is going to tell you that you’re the one. I know, how ridiculous and crazy of me to say that. How ludicrous to assume we’d end up together forever. But every time it got quiet, I had always hoped that that would finally be the moment that I was going to be told something. Is it that preposterous to think everyone in a relationship should feel so loved, and so wanted? For him to just stare at you, while you’re cooking, while you’re brushing your teeth, and think that you are the most exquisite thing he has ever laid eyes on. Why settle for anything less than that? I want to ask, why is it so bad to want that when the time comes and when you’re ready for it? Do people just love differently, and sometimes it doesn’t match up, or it becomes too intense for one person, because the other loved too deeply? Is that the goal? To find someone whose love matches up with yours? To find someone who cares just as much as you do? Why are guys settling for girls who treat them like shit, and don’t appreciate them? Why are girls settling for guys who don’t deserve them and take them for granted? Why? Why is it so fucking difficult to find two people to be mutually so disgustingly happy in love with each other. Why would it be so difficult to find someone that thinks you’re incredible? Because being the kind of person that you are, you think they’re incredible, and you can easily give them 10 reasons why. Do other people not think the same way? Have relationships and happiness become that jaded and cynical?
If you have a man that looks at you like you’re a prized possession, that goes to great lengths to cheer you up, that tells you how amazing you are, that loves taking you out, that’s proud when he takes you out, that thinks damn, that’s mine, why do anything to fuck that up? Because I’ll tell you that there are millions of men who won’t look at you like that after you’ve just helped them with something, or after you worked hard to make them something, or after you look at them because for whatever reason, you think they’re amazing. Instead, you get one-worded replies, shifting eyes – shifting mindsets.
Is it so bad to want something like that? For someone to want to count every freckle that I have, because they love them. For someone to not say it’s okay when I apologize for being me, but instead make me feel even more loved than I ever have? For someone to be so enthralled by what I think, and how I do. For someone not to take me for granted. For someone to make me feel like I’m not a burden, or I’m not hard to love. For someone to feel lucky, honored, and proud that I write about them. Or excited that they’re able to make me smile, because that’s rare, or make me laugh out loud. I know life isn’t a Nicholas Sparks novel, and it is certainly not a John Green novel. Oh, god, I would not want it to be. But there have been so many instances with girls regarding guys and it’s like, damn, bitch can’t even get a text back?
Don’t you want someone that you wake up to, and through their half-opened eyes while you’re putting a shirt on to make breakfast think, she’s so sexy; she’s amazing. Do people just not think about these things? Is this not a common thing because girls don’t take the time to reciprocate? Are things really that depressing when you find yourself in a relationship in your early to mid twenties? Or have I just been out of the game too long. . .? Or was Nick just incredibly rare? As we all know, I have a lot to say about a lot of things. What happens is this: I meet a guy, he says something about my hair, complimenting me. He asks what I do. Then he asks what I’m in school for. I tell him I write. He asks what I write about, or he’ll say I’d love to read your blog (only like 1 out of 10 actually do). He’ll say he thinks it’s so cool that I write, he’ll say he thinks the fact that I’m so open and straightforward is attractive. He’ll tell me I’m not like most girls and it’s intriguing. he’ll say he’s not looking for a hookup. He’ll tell me I have nice boobs. He’ll tell me I give good head. The talking dwindles down because he got what he wanted. Or he’ll try and keep it going, in turn, to get more blowjobs. But it’s my bad, because that’s all he sees me as now. A nice girl, who gives good head. And the one or two that ‘like me’ don’t care to ever date me. Why would they take me out? Just hang at their place. Gee, I wonder why. They don’t pay attention to how I think or what I have to say. They say I’m interesting. But they don’t listen, really listen. They don’t care to ask how I’m doing, how I’m really doing. Why would they? Why should they? They don’t care about the insane amount of freckles that I have. They might think they’re cute, but they don’t care to study them. Or inspect them. I might have a decent body to them. But it’s just a body. They don’t care to stare at it, or talk about it, or examine it. That would require more time. I’m not worth that time. Or, making any effort for, for that matter. And for once. . .I would like it to go differently.
I’ve said this before because, though I am not a confident person, I know whoever I end up with will be extremely lucky.