See you never.

Just my luck. At the age of 25, I have had my fair share of dating mishaps, but nothing beats my trademark— meeting a compatible partner, spending a glorious few days together (sometimes weeks, if I’m lucky) and then having to say goodbye because they either: live abroad, are moving, or were simply on vacation for a determined amount of time. When I was younger, the idea was exciting. You have two weeks? Let’s go to the planetarium and follow that by actual stargazing- late into the night. You’re leaving in a month? Why don’t we take an impromptu trip to NYC and you can meet my dearest friends- because my excitement of our seemingly deep connection prompts me to show you off. You only have a week… oh wow the options are truly endless. And I must say, every time it is exhilarating and adventurous, but the goodbye and the heavy trace left behind is emptying.

In my late teens and early twenties, this occurrence was thrilling; the idea of showing this being my particularly best qualities was a challenge that I always accepted with gusto. I knew the pain would come later, but— I would tell myself naively— the ephemeral happiness will soften the blow. And I do admit, after many years of being brainwashed by UNREAL rom coms and romantic teen novels, I always imagined my tenderness and caresses would overpower any pending responsibilities and by the grace of god the lover would uplift his life and be with me. Ha, how irrational right? Over time, slowly but surely, I began to accept this would never happen. I should never rely on a stranger to do that, because I myself would not. Yes, the time spent was nice (more than nice, excuse me) but never life changing enough to skew the course of one’s life. And why would I ever want it to be that way? Perhaps, the hazy cloud of the honeymoon period was too thick to clearly see who they were. And vice versa! They never get to see my impatient side, my insecurities, or even pick up on my mannerisms.

So here I am, at the age of 25, revisiting my relationships and questioning the wrongs and rights. Now that I have given this pattern some thought, I have concluded two things: 1. I am afraid of commitment but crave closure which therefore leads me to involve myself in these fleeting situations and 2. Long distance is awful and I am not built for it- guaranteed. Plus, a bonus 3. I have a lot of dating stories, which are often entertaining, but I am officially tired of this trek.

I am ready for someone to see the true me, not the idealistic cardboard cutout.

Ps: If you are thinking of advising me to date myself: I have technically been doing that for some time… and it’s wonderful! Every year I learn a little more about myself that always propels me to grow into someone better.

Pps: Being single is strengthening and stimulating in many ways and I highly recommend you spend as much time with yourself before your world gets a little more complicated with age.

Evolving Hopeless Romantic

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For as long as I’ve been on this earth, I have been a hopeless romantic, and the worst kind too. My entire teenage-hood was enveloped in countless imaginative encounters with “The One” and quite literally running off to be happily together. In my mind, there wasn’t anything love couldn’t resolve or mend. And it was pure, my creations were simply filled with happiness and connecting with another human on a level that was so palpable it oozed out of a lover’s stare; the sort of connection strangers envy when they notice the uncontrollable longing gaze and drunken smiles. Ohhh to be in love. 

My thoughts were constantly solidifying and shifting. When I visited Paris, I immediately imagined a life in which we would discuss culture, linger by the Seine and make love in an apartment riddled with history and a balcony opened to the cacophony of the French language and streets.

weart3.jpg“There are two kinds of people in the world; those who make things happen, and those who hope things happen. Just for you and just for today, I am a hoper. And I hope with every beat of my heart, you are one of those who make things happen.”

-written by Dorianne Young