Dating : Three Great Loves

And all the bullshit that goes with them

Have you ever heard the theory that you get three great loves in your life? The one that looked right, the hard one, and the one that lasts a lifetime? Yeah, I pretty much have based my dating habits around that idea.

I met a love that looked right when I was 22. He was tall, grizzly, and we had nothing in common. He criticized my every move. The way I talked too loud when I felt passionate about what I was saying, how I rubbed my feet on the sheets when I was tired, and even the way I said ‘I love you’ too often.

It ended the day I met the hard love. I was 24 and he felt like magic. He made a chill run through my bones, and I had to have him. He also criticized my every move. The way I loved my hometown, the fact that I liked one drink with dinner instead of two, and how he couldn’t trust that I loved him.

That ended, and I assumed the love that would last a lifetime was right around the corner. I swear I started to look for signs in the cracks on the sidewalks. I started to pay more attention to the way I looked and how I acted — my day-to-day actions became an act, just in case someone special was watching.

I let guys come in and out of my life, sometimes for weeks, other times for months. And each time I was reminded by them of my flaws. I think in the span of a year, I met hard love numbers 2, 3, and 4. All of whom picked out things about me they didn’t like (which happened to be things I quite enjoy about myself).

But inevitably the self-pity cycle is bound to begin. Will I ever be enough? Will anyone think I’m pretty when my hair is a mess? Will anyone stay?

Well here’s a note for anyone who needs to hear it: FUCK IT.

I may not have been enough for anyone yet, but I am still enough.

I don’t look pretty when my hair is a mess, but that’s okay.

Not everyone is supposed to stay, but that doesn’t mean someone never will.

People always say that until you love yourself, no one else truly can. I am going to politely disagree with that sentiment. (Sorry, Mom.) I do love myself — and not to sound conceited — but I think I’m kind of kick-ass. At the same time, that self-love doesn’t entitle me to be loved in return, and that has to be okay.

So, the three great loves? Fuck ’em. You might have 3, or 1, or 12. But you meet them, they get a chance to give you what you deserve, and if they don’t you just politely walk away.

So here I go, walking away. Catch me if you can.