Butterflies in our stomach, head over heels, hearts in our mouths; these are all phrases which relate to our bodies reaction to love and romance. I don’t know about you but even the slightest chance, the most minuscule suggestion, the tiniest of sparks and my imagination runs away with itself!
My experience with romance and boys has been minimal, though I did have a boyfriend when I was 13, I didn’t really understand what was going on and, truly, was just copying everyone else. Needless to say, it didn’t last long, I was far too unprepared to dedicate myself to the sort of serious relationship he wanted, and though more mature than my peers, I still felt I was too young. Other than that taster, “almost something” has been my port of call in the land of romance.
So, the idea of love intrigues me, it’s a complete mystery, and every time I develop a new crush, my mind takes it and runs! Usually, though, I build up my own completely contrived version of the person that doesn’t relate to who they are at all.
Have an example, let’s call him… Bob (wow, original!). In my mind, Bob, with his messy hair and cheeky smile, was hilariously funny, incredibly talented and was more considerate than your average guy. In reality, once I got to know him better I realised, he was misogynistic, his jokes were hilariously stupid and his ego as big as America. Despite this revelation, I still battled with my feelings for him for around 2 years, going through periods of being hopelessly smitten with him and absolutely despising him. Though I knew better, what I liked was the idea of Bob, this glorified version I had built up in my head, rather than actually liking Bob (obviously, since I’ve given him the gloriously horrible name of Bob).
Feelings lack sense, and as someone who considers themselves fairly logical and dripping in common sense, I battle with my feelings’ complete lack of sanity quite often. My friends can attest to the fact that I tend to ignore feelings, over actually dealing with them. Proven by the fact that I completely fell for a guy while on holidays and completely disintegrated when I returned home, not helped by the fact that we STILL have a snapchat streak. I’m not a crier, at all, and I cried more that week than I probably had in the past year. All because I felt I’d found the perfect guy but he lived on the other side of the world. I went through a regular cycle of being happy when I thought of memories, becoming upset because it’s unlikely I’ll ever see him again, getting angry at myself because it was ridiculous to feel this way about guy I barely knew, all of which normally culminated in me just crumbling into a sea of self-pity. It goes without saying, I was immovable. Nothing and no one could reason with me.
As humans, we (for some reason, probably something to do with survival instincts) are so desperate to find love, that we take someone’s bad attributes or the unworkability of a situation, and shove ’em in a bag, in a box, in a cupboard somewhere in the attic of our minds. We hysterically try to make these problems disappear in order to convince ourselves we’ve found the “perfect” person. We do it so well that sometimes we remain in situations where we’re truly unhappy, or even in danger, just because, once upon a time, we called them Mr or Mrs Right. Love leaves us blind and unable to see peril, so why is infatuation so important to us, why do we crave it?! (Honestly, though, it’d be great if we could just stop).
The truth is, we’re brainwashed from a young age. In kids TV shows and movies it’s rare to find one without even some suggestion of romance and relationships. Distant relatives ask you from a young age, “so is that your boyfriend?”. We have it instilled in our sub-conscious that in order to be happy, we need romance, we need love. We learn that it’s a pillar of life. True happiness, we’re taught, lies in that special someone, your soulmate. In the case of women, we are pitied if we reach 35 (hell even younger sometimes!!) without being married, or having kids. It’s presumed that your only goal in life is to be a mother! Well, I call bullshit.
In reality, happiness lies in yourself, in confidence, in passions. It lies in your friends and family, those who make you smile and laugh and ask for nothing in return. It lies in moments and being present in those moments. There isn’t one person you can make you truly happy if you’re not happy without them. That’s not healthy. You can’t rely on someone else to consistently provide you with the key for joy. Sure, someone can put you in a good mood, or help your general mental health improve, but they can just as easily take that away. Maybe I’m being cynical, but I believe it’s true. Maybe I haven’t reached that stage myself, but I will. Though my gut is screaming that I need “that man” in my life, I am determined that I will be so much more than the 9 to 5, picket-fence, dependent wife.
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Lots of love,
