More than one night

“It is one thing to know that you need to decentre the search for romantic love in your life, and another entirely to actually do it.” –Natasha Lunn, “Conversations On Love”

 I’m almost done dabbing a bit too much blush across my cheeks and nose when the thought creeps into my mind again. Maybe I’ll meet the one tonight, I think, knowing damn well I’m off to the same college bar I go to every weekend to see the same people I always see. I quickly push the thought out of my mind and turn to grab the perfume I know the last guy would always notice, just in case I see him tonight. He won’t be able to resist me if I’m wearing this perfume, I think, knowing damn well he hasn’t batted an eye at me in months.

I’m almost done spraying my body with perfume when I realize my roommates and I are late, once again. They run out the door, yelling “Elevator’s here! Let’s go!” as I finish tying my shoelaces. I grab my purse, shove my lip combo inside, and apply a final splash of perfume. For good luck, I think, even though I know the clean, vanilla smell will fade away the second I’m out the door.

I’m almost done reapplying my lipstick as we make our way toward the end of the seemingly interminable line at the bar. I can wait in this line if that’s what it takes, I think, already knowing this night will end like every other one. “I don’t think this line is worth it,” one of my roommates says, “I have so much homework to do.” Same here, I think, even though I know I could’ve finished it all today but didn’t, because my mind was consumed with thoughts of anticipation about whether or not this would finally be the night. My night.

We’re almost at the front of the line, about to get into the bar, when the realization hits me. Of course tonight isn’t going to be the night, I think. It never is.

We’re almost back home when the piercing feeling hits me again. I’ll never meet the one, I think, knowing damn well it’s true.

***

I’m 20 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend, but it’s not like I desperately need one. I try to fill my cup with hobbies, platonic friendships, career goals, and lots of time spent alone. But, even then, I cannot seem to rid myself of the thought that, although the relationships in my life are my backbone, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship.

Now, I know, a romantic partnership would most definitely not solve all my problems. But if I’m being completely honest, I sometimes feel like it would. I’m sure everyone who’s in a relationship that’s reading this is probably rolling their eyes, trying to warn me not to fall into the trap. Don’t worry, I’ve heard all the warnings and I’ve seen all the signs. And yet, deep in the pit of my stomach, I yearn for someone to tell me “I love you” and actually mean it, in that soul-consuming way.

My friends always tell me that it’ll come when I least expect it. “You have to stop looking for it, it’ll find you” is the universal mindset of the hopeless romantics who are holding on to the hope that their very own Prince Charming will someday make their way into their lives by a very thin, delicate thread. But, as with most things in my life, I am unable to let fate play its cards. I must feel like I’m searching for a solution myself.

Ironically, I wouldn’t say I’m actively dating. I think I’ve only ever been on one date, and I’m not sure it really even counts. I’ve never been taken out to dinner or had a night personally planned for me by someone so interested in having me in their life that they go out of their way to make me happy. 

Contrarily, I am no stranger to one-time kisses in bars and secret, late-night hangouts with guys I’ll probably never take home to meet my parents. Not because I don’t want to, but because they don’t see anything in me beyond what I can give them at a surface level. Although somewhat unintentionally, this has made me believe that I’m not really worth being introduced to what lies beyond that surface level. It’s made me feel that I’m not worthy of a title, that I’m no more than a one-time thing.

I do not feel empowered in the pursuit of romantic relationships. I often gravitate toward guys that want nothing to do with me. My therapist always tells me this says nothing about me and everything about them, but I struggle to actually believe her. This is likely due to the fact that, more often than not, they do want something with the next girl that comes along. More often than not, I’m just the one that comes before their big break. I’m every guy’s filler episode.

Like clockwork, it’s when they lose all interest in me that I become the most invested. I know, I know. We all love the chase. But, my chase is going to every party I don’t want to go to, just to catch a glimpse of the guy I like as he talks to every girl but me. My chase is getting as close to him as physically possible only to instantly step away because I’m terrified of rejection. My chase is putting my goals, my dreams, and my needs aside for someone who won’t even give me the time of day.

I’ve always been a hard-worker, and I’ve always been very ambitious. Beyond that, I’ve always been a dreamer. Even when I feel that I have nothing, I can always count on my mind. In the past few years, however, I’ve been losing sight of this more often than I’d like to admit. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point in my teenage years, all that ambition, all that drive, all those dreams got lost in a sea of desire for someone else to come into my life and fill my cup in ways I convinced myself I couldn’t.

“But he’s so smart,”or “He’s so kind,” I would always tell my friends, failing to acknowledge that I possess all the same qualities, even if they manifest themselves in a different way. “He’s so great with kids” and “We like all the same movies” seemed to be enough for me to throw my life out the window to go after a person I didn’t really even know.

The worst part about this endless pursuit of romantic love is that what I’m looking for, I think I already have. I have friends who are smart and kind, who are great with kids and like all the same movies as me. I have friends who make me laugh harder than any man ever could. But even then, I’m still left wanting more.

I know I sound ungrateful. But, it’s hard when everyone around you seems to be finding the one, while you work incessantly to find your person with no end in sight.

***

I’m almost done dabbing a bit too much blush across my cheeks and my nose when the thought creeps into my mind again. Maybe I’ll meet the one tonight, I think, this time actually believing myself a bit more than usual. I quickly push the thought out of my mind, so as to not jinx it, but I’m still brimming with hope and possibility. Tonight, I’m going to a party at a friend’s apartment. I know in the back of my mind that all the same people I always see will be there, but I’m holding on to hope by a very thin, very delicate thread.

I’m almost done covering my body in perfume when I realize my roommates and I are late, as per usual. They run out the door, yelling “Elevator’s here! Let’s go!” as I finish tying my shoelaces. I grab my purse and shove my lip combo inside. I take one final look at myself in the mirror. Your charm is in your conversation, I think, this time trying to believe in myself a bit more than usual. Tonight’s the night, I can feel it.

I’m almost done reapplying my lip combo as we open the door to our friend’s apartment. The apartment is dark, illuminated only by colorful disco party lights. As we start greeting people one by one, I can feel myself getting smaller. I might actually not meet the one tonight, I think, realizing that it’s more probable that I spend the night dancing with my roommate than engaging in any conversations with guys I might be into.

And that’s exactly what happens. And every time a guy tries to make his way into our circle, I turn away. Because what if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t like me for more than one night?