I am a firm believer in never holding grudges. I refuse to bring my hurt from past relationships into my current endeavors. That being said, I should have trust issues. I should be this stereotypical bitter female who’s sworn off boys and goes to bar crawls on Valentine’s Day, but I’m not. I am quite the opposite.
I love to love. This has been brought to my attention in the past as some tragic flaw of mine. The idea of being a hopeless romantic in a society built on the foundation of a hook-up culture is somehow unwanted; too passionate, too intimidating, if you will. That being said, when I met this “Mr. Perfect” who shared similar values on relationships and pretty much checked off everything on my list; well… I just knew.
Sometimes you know. You look at this beautifully crafted silhouette of a person and you ask yourself how you got so lucky. Maybe it was that smile, the way his skin formed crescents around his seductively pale lips when he grinned so absentmindedly. Or maybe it was those eyes. Those caramel coffee bean-colored eyes that looked like nothing less than sunshine gleaming through whiskey. Those eyes that looked at me and sent a jolt through every fiber of my being.
I knew with him. I knew he’d be bad for me. Nobody that perfect is placed in your life so precisely, so blissfully, with the best of intentions. It didn’t help when he knew all the things to say to keep me swooning 24/7 yet consistently kept me on my toes. You hate to be this negative person but in a weirdly confusing way, it really does become too good to be true.
I knew he’d tear my heart right out of my chest and crush it into a fine dust in his hands. I knew he’d be the most perfect heart breaker I’d ever have the privilege of loving. Somewhere deep down I knew he’d be the worst choice I’d ever make. But I went on choosing him anyway, day in and day out, through every battle and through every test he’d put me through; I chose him.
Then there comes the point in a relationship where you can’t keep ignoring the signs. The insecurities that build up, the doubts, the uncertainty; everything you ignored because you were so fascinated by what was in front of you with a big red bow and a tag that read, “All Yours.”
But that’s the problem -- I hold on to the memories instead of people. I love so much that I continue to fall in love with a person that doesn’t even exist anymore. There’s a certain thrill to it, the danger of falling in love with the idea of somebody rather than who they actually are.
I don’t know (I may never know) what it was for sure that made me love someone so selfish and inconsistent. All that I know is I loved him. My God, I loved him with all that I had, and that love broke me from the inside out until I had nothing left to offer.
Moral of the story: there are plenty of wolves out there, and you won’t be able to spot them so easily at first. You’re going to find someone who passes so flawlessly on every relationship criterion you have. He’s going to butter you up and send you into this fantastic bliss. But beware, because that same person is going to be willing to shove love so far down your throat that you won’t be able to get the bitter taste out of your mouth for weeks.
Love yourself enough to know when to walk away. Don’t invest so much time and effort into someone who will be able to wake up one morning and no longer see the stars in your eyes. The best love is not manipulative, inconsistent or selfish. The best love is confident in himself; he knows who he is and what he wants and will turn those stars into constellations.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-8