I can wait to fall in love

What I've spent my whole life trying to put into words....

After overthinking about love a good amount, I thought I should write it down, before my mind starts to go. Which is anytime now.

Sometimes I feel like I love too much. Sometimes I feel like I am a person who mimics love, and I stop when I don't feel like it. I have seen love as a weakness and now I am slowly learning how strong it can be.

After a short series of trial and error, which was mostly errors, I might have figured out what I want but mostly what I don't want. I don’t want the love that happens in swipes. Call me hopeless but I am a romantic. Not the casual relationships that leaves you mentally deranged. Not the ones they call situation-ships whatever the fuck that means. Not the ones where y’all have been doing it for months and finally decide to label it. Truly pathetic, offense intended. Not the one where we all decide to settle for the broke, emotionally incompetent people which the media have been feeding for a long time now (then friends’ Ross and now materialists’ John). Now cue the “well at least I have someone”- girl, stand up.

I want the love that Jane Austen wrote about. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more”. I want the ones that made poets crazy. Riled up calm men. The ones I grew up watching. The ones that screams, “I will stand between heaven and earth and tell you which is which. Do you love me?”. The ones I grew up reading about. “Now I just wait for death”. The kind that rarely gets shown anymore. Cue Severance, season 2, last 3 minutes - the same Orpheus, turning back to Eurydice in hell, different characters, different genre, several centuries apart but one thing that echoes as he turns to her knowing he would lose it all - Love. That kind of love.

As we’ve established—I love love stories. I used to think about all the ways I’d fall in love when I was a kid. The stories changed, the characters changed, but I remained a hopeless romantic. And single. All the way through. I’ve been called overbearing, fictional, unrealistic. Been told I’d never find anyone. So far, it’s been true. I have been singing the prophecy in the shower and waiting for long story short to start playing, only for the smallest man who ever lived to echo out instead. What a joke.

But on some random Thursday, I am up thinking - Is love transactional? Is love meant to hurt? Is true love something that finds you or you’re supposed to be looking for it in the apps? If we are searching and finding love does it feel real? What makes love real? Or after 25 years old, worth it? Worth trusting another human being, hoping they won’t hurt you in any way imaginable and unimaginable? Is that too much pressure on the person itself? After all I shouldn’t be looking for Bob the builder. Maybe I should heal before finding love, but isn’t love the answer for most of my issues?

Again, how do I eat fish, after it made me sick? Do I quit eating fish? Or should I try and find which kind of fish I'm allergic too? What if I’m allergic to all kinds of fish? What if it was the one fish that was bad? How would I know if I never tried? What if I die trying? Is it somehow more pathetic not to? But I love fish. Or at least the fictional ones. Welcome to my world.

So yeah I do wanna fall in love. But the right way. Not the kind of love that makes me ask ChatGPT, “Do you think he likes me?” I want the kind of love that’s loud. That I don’t have to decode. Where I don’t end up questioning my worth in the middle of the night. I want to feel safe enough to believe he’s lucky to have me. I want love that feels like home—not just for me, but for someone else who chooses to be there. Not because they have to, but because they want to. A love where I don’t second guess everything I say. Where I can do the most unhinged stuff, and they’re still not fazed. I want a love that is secure. One-of-a-kind. True to itself. It’s either that or nothing. I don’t want to settle. I’m not that sad. Depressed, maybe. But not sad.

I’ve been told love doesn’t knock on your door - you have to go looking for it. Okay, then explain Jude law in The holiday. I’ve been asked to try dating apps and in between the “wassup?” and “I am so bad at texting”, I ended up contemplating shooting myself in the head or deleting the app. I chose the latter. Do not regret it. So wanting and hoping but not waiting. Because life moves on, one way or the other. And yes it is better to be not loved than be loved a little. So when love finally finds it's way to my door, I’ll send out a letter. Until then I’ll be on Substack. 🧡