For as long as I can remember, I have been a hopeless romantic. I was called a hopeless romantic before I even knew what it meant to be one. My dad was the first one to say it, (he has always known me better than I know myself,) and I was so young then too. I couldn't have been any older than 10. At that time, I hadn't even had my first crush yet, (that came two years later.) As the years went on, I kept hearing the same thing, which made sense because if you know me at all, you know I love well… love. I love the sappiness that comes with relationships, it's all cheesy and great but being a hopeless romantic encompasses so much more than the way you feel towards the idea of love. Now starting in my twenties I’m starting to understand this, and I have to thank my dad for showing me what exactly it means.

When my dad got engaged to my now stepmom, I remember driving in the car at night a few months before their wedding. We had just seen someone win American Idol and the winner cried. They cried tears of happiness. I was seven going on eight that year. I remember asking why they cried, if they were happy, and my stepmom explained to me that sometimes people get so happy, so extremely overjoyed, that you have no other option than to release the emotions through tears. Of course to seven-year-old Destiny, that made absolutely no sense. People cry when they're sad. Period.

My parents got married that March. This was the day I experienced my first set of happy tears (except they weren't cute little tears, I did the ugly cry—full on sobbing). During the entire ceremony, I remember holding my aunt’s shaking hand, and hearing sniffles from runny noses in every direction. This was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. There was not a dry eye anywhere in sight by the end of the ceremony. And even still, I hadn't cried. As it goes, when the ceremony ends, the bride and groom exit first and the bridal party follows. Being the flower girl, I was next to follow and as I followed, I remember looking at the back of my parents and seeing how happy and in love they were, and it made me overjoyed. We were always a family, but now, forever was promised. As this thought is running through my mind, I start feeling the tingly nose and suddenly my steps are getting faster. I loved my dad for finding this woman, for choosing her to help in raising me. I loved her. I needed to tell her. But there were so many people in the way, saying their congratulations. As I finally wedged my way through the mass, my step-mom took one look at me smiling, glowing, and I lost it. Tears were streaming and I was officially sobbing. Because now I had not one, but two moms. “I’m so happy you’re my mom now” (I managed to squeak out.) So these were happy tears.

From then on, my heart has been on my sleeve. Being a hopeless romantic means having a big heart. So big it's almost to a fault. Mine is that big, or so I’ve been told. Every time I have ever cried to my dad, I get the same sad-eyed smile. “Pest (nickname, don't ask,) you just have sucha big heart…” Sometimes, I think he wishes I was a little more guarded because I get hurt so easily. I love too hard and give too much. I fall in love with the potential I see in people. I tend to do that—see the good in everyone and search for it. My dad blames himself for it, he says he sheltered me too much growing up, but I love the way I am. I love the way I am because he molded me into the person that I am.

I see the world through rose-colored lenses and the birds chirp every morning when I wake up. I’m an optimist which incidentally makes me a dreamer. Some think that makes me naive, and if that’s true, then so be it. I can be realistic, but to me being realistic means I'm settling, and that just isn't in my nature. Dad taught me better than that. I yearn for the happy ending and I intend on having it one way or another. It may take longer for me, and that's okay. Great things take time, and I understand that.

That being said, I still have an idea of the type of person I want to end up with. After sitting alone listening to the one and only John Mayer, I started to make a list of qualities I’d want my future hubby to have so I could share it with you and then I realized there was no need for it. Here’s why:

For those of you who have been lucky enough (yes, lucky) to meet my dad, you know he’s the greatest person. Even calling him “great” feels like an understatement, but there isn't a word in the English language to describe him. I have never met someone who has crossed paths with him that doesn’t say he’s a great person. He’s amazing. He’s a leader, he was born with that instinct. A fantastic speaker, he holds you captive with his words until the very end. He’s direct, firm and orderly, but he cares for you, he’s serious when it's important but a goofball at the end of the day. My friends know he gets under my skin like no other, but I love him unconditionally and he is well aware. There are days and countless nights where he just likes to bother me and I always say “I don't like you!” to which he replies whilst laughing, “That's okay, you don't have to like me because you love me.” How irritatingly true.

There is a reason people say girls marry their fathers. When you’re as lucky as I am, there is no need to look elsewhere for the qualities you want. They have been with me my entire life. So, if you want an inside as to who I want to end up with, look towards my dad. I need someone who is as hard-headed as me, who can keep me grounded when necessary, who can make me laugh uncontrollably, who loves me unconditionally and supports me when I need it the most.

Dad, thank you for raising me with nothing but love—for showing me it's okay to love and love hard. Teaching me it's important to recognize my feelings and to drown in them because it’s important to understand them. Lastly, for telling me over and over to say what I need to say. I am me because of you. I can only hope to find someone as great as you, and I’m not even entirely sure anyone will be able to measure up.