Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 

I don’t believe in love anymore. I’m inclined to think that most people don’t, at least not the kind we were taught about. Where is that ever after, and if it’s there, could you sign me up, please?

I believe in the concept and principals of love, of loving mankind, each other, but as far as romantic love, between two people, I used to, I know what it is, what it takes to make it happen, and of course, I have seen it. I am always happy for others. But for myself, sigh, perhaps not. I’ve been burned far too many times, and while it’s a nice thought, I have to say that I’m just not able to fully buy into it. I tend to really shy away from personal relationships and keep to myself.

I’m a pretty private person, so most of the time I don’t share too many details. We’ve all done the gambit of dating, had our heart broken. I don’t play the latest version of the dating game, (aka swipe left or right, and a bee for a honey, really?) At some point in our lives that gets a little old, and most of us seek something a bit more substantial. I don’t chase, skip, run, carry a bee net or otherwise after people.

Unwilling to settle, I wanted the real thing, I wanted the one real love of my life, not a digital copy, a facsimile of what everyone thinks love should be. I don’t necessarily need the white fence or the two-car garage. I do not need to sign on the dotted line. There is no need to own because love is not a possession.

I want to be unforgettable. I want to be more than just good for one night. I had hoped for good for a lifetime. I wanted to be an equal partner, someone who is deemed worthy, and I wanted someone who was truly going to love me and allow me to love him completely. I wanted to make memories, snowball fights in winter, super-soaker water fights with the neighborhood kids in summer, just being able to be goofy with someone, to be myself. Someone I could travel with, learn about the world from, someone who is as passionate about his life as I am. I wanted laughter, an everlasting kind of love. The kind where you’re sitting on a bench together, looking back on a beautiful life. I want the words I and me to slowly melt into we and us.

If someone had asked me a year or so ago, I would have believed, I would have said that fairytales do happen, but sadly, they don’t, it doesn’t seem to exist. I’ve never been a choice. I’ve always been the girl next door, the best friend, one of the guys, I’m the girl that wishes everyone else happiness and sweeps up the confetti and champagne glasses after the party, and I’m not good with love. I usually mess it up. I often blunder through.

When Cinderella left her glass slipper behind, running down the steps at midnight, I’m the girl that would trip over her dress and fall down the stairs. (right in front of the Prince).

Honestly, every time I find just an ounce of happiness, it all comes crashing down, so I’m a little afraid, I need something to believe in again. I need the words this time, something tangible. At this point, I’ve more or less locked the door and shut the blinds to my heart. (although, I do peek out now and then), you can’t blame a girl.

I’m not sure if I believe anymore. I’m probably better off not even thinking that way.

I don’t have my head in the clouds. I’m not waiting for someone to save me, except on Mondays, just bring chocolate. I’m a bit more of a self-rescuing princess these days, so Prince Charming, if you’re reading this, you may have a tad bit of a challenge. I’m not looking for someone to walk behind, I want someone who will walk beside me. Yay for partnership, something I do believe in.

Honestly, I’d rather have a root canal without the numbing agent, it’s far less painful.

I guess the word I’m looking for is gun shy. I know I’m not alone. I’m afraid to try again. Okay, the word is chicken.

This story is written in part from