When I was a little girl, I remember being embarrassed by romance. I was watching "What A Girl Wants" with my mom and sister in the master bedroom and looked away, flushed, as they kissed in the boat. My mom laughed at me for getting shy about it.

I should’ve known then.

I got past my awkwardness and started enjoying watching romance and rom-coms. I would see a couple holding hands as they walked through the grocery store and think to myself how wonderful that must be. Now, I envy those who are in love. I get jealous when I see two people kiss on a park bench or sit in a restaurant laughing over glasses of wine.

I’m not mad at them; rather, I’m mad at myself, because although I wish I had love, I’m deathly afraid of it.

And I can’t figure out why.

My perception of love has been skewed. I have never run into romance the way most people do. I always dreamed of having my own Flynn Rider, but when put in a situation where there was the potential for love, I would panic and run away. I am Julia Roberts in "The Runaway Bride." Instead of giving love a chance, I settle for the fake kind, the cheap and easy kind. I’ve had my fair share of making out with people I hardly know, and for what? The temporary feeling that I may be liked by someone? It’s a confidence booster until you snap to and realize that in the end, you’ve been hurt.

They don’t text you, they don’t ask to see you again.

You’ve been used. All because you wanted that taste of love, to experience if just for a moment the surge of happiness that comes from being wanted by another person.

And that’s so fucked up.

Sometimes I question how I can be so picky with guys. I can’t say I’ve never been crushed on - it has been the case that a guy or two might like me - but more often than not, they’re guys that I have no interest in. How harsh does that sound? I clearly have no one to blame but myself, because I’ve been given options, I’m just not choosing them. Then I tell myself I’ve gone almost 21 years without a boyfriend, why rush it now? But let’s be honest, that doesn’t help. I still feel guilty, like I’m just being vain, or selfish. I should go for the guys in my league, right? I just want Prince Charming. I want my happily ever after or my awkwardly romantic rom-com ending, but that may never happen for me if I keep fishing with the wrong bait. Or in the wrong pond.

Occasionally, a guy comes along that I do have interest in, who *gasp* also has interest in me. Then something inevitably screws up anything that may be budding.

He can’t be in a relationship if there’s no sex.

He doesn’t like labels.

He wants to be friends with benefits.

That reinforces what I fear about love: that it comes at a cost. I question how two people naturally build a relationship when I can’t even get asked on a formal date. I see the romance resulting from two people with a crush on each other and wonder why the same won’t happen to me. Why must I give up my virginity or my dignity in order to be loved? I don’t just wonder why I’m scared of love...

Why is love scared of me?

For now, I have peace of mind that there are family and friends who care about me. They give me the love that I fear I will never find romantically, and that’s enough to get me through encountering cute couples and their PDA. I will continue to believe that I will one day have a happy ending, no matter how unrealistic it may seem now.