And that wasn't me trying to sound cool.
That was me being honest about the fact that at age 33 I genuinely have no fucking idea what my expectations are concerning relationships.
Like.
I don't even know if I want to get married anymore.
In my twenties I definitely classified myself as a hopeless romantic.
I even remember when I first met Sheldon four years ago telling him that I didn't understand how people could sleep together on the first date because they didn't even know each other.
How could they feel any sort of connection?
Then I turned 30 & I realized it's called sex.
Yes, I had sex in my twenties, though not as much as you'd think.
And every guy I slept with I loved.
See. Hopeless romantic, to be certain.
But when you're not a teenager and you're not in college, when you enter adulthood dating changes.
It's no longer about finding a boyfriend so you can have a relationship and maybe even one day get married.
No, dating in your thirties is about getting laid.
And I'm afraid I've been molded by these new customs and I'm not sure what to make of it.
I NEVER. EVER. Thought I could become the kind of girl who had sex on a first date.
But since the objectives have changed, sometimes the point of a date IS to have sex.
But why is having a relationship suddenly the uncool thing to do?
10 years ago the cool thing was to have a significant other, to be in love and do all that coupley crap that people bombard their Facebook with during the holidays.
But now?
Every date I go on seems to worship at the altar of casual noncommittal hookups.
Even though ALL of them would admit the sex wasn't as satisfying as it was with the last girl they loved.
So if we understand the connection between physical pleasure and intense emotional connections why have we separated them?
And how do I shift back into that romantic version of myself when this is the first year of my life I forgot the name of a guy I slept with?
See this THIS is why I was pining for The Phantom even after it was blaringly obvious I wasn't his perfect drug.
He was the last person, the only person, in fucking AGES to romance me.
Romance.
I couldn't even handle it when he was pouring it on thick because it felt almost ridiculous.
Not that he was ridiculous.
But the idea of a man spending hours upon hours with me, date after date, serenading me, gazing into my eyes and all instead of just fucking after a few old fashioneds?
Of course I thought it meant something!
Of course I was going to be stubbornly convinced it was something special!
Because it was so fucking different didn't it have to be?
And everyone including him thought I was crazy for holding on but DO YOU UNDERSTAND MEN DONT WRITE LOVE SONGS TO GET LAID unless they were in my music theory class junior year.
That's why I held onto it!
I don't understand why you're trying so hard to hold onto this.
Because there's no one else like that!
It felt like the holy grail of Tinder.
So I went on a date.
And I liked him.
And I told myself to do things differently this time.
And I planned to.
And then he kissed me.
And you know.
Maybe modern dating has dissolved into something carnal and basic because it seems easier than getting our hearts broken again.
Because by the time you're single in your thirties, you're no stranger to lost love.
And it really fucking sucks.
And it leaves this crack in your heart.
And most of the time you can just ignore it cuz it's just a fucking crack.
It's not broken.
But sometimes the wind blows and you hear music when there isn't a sound and the air rushes inside and fills that crack.
And it swells.
And it's hard to breathe.
And a wave of sadness covers your beating heart.
And then you feel angry for feeling sad about something that was ages ago.
That you honestly are finding it harder and harder to remember.
And so your next date you fall back into the new you.
The you that was so fucking skeptical of the romance in the first place.
And you wonder if it had been better if you'd never let the romance get the best of you.
Because that's what you miss most.
That's what made you giddy like when you were 23 all over again.
I didn't want to be an overly romantic little fool.
But I didn't want to be whatever I feared I was becoming now.
How, in this age of modern dating can a romantic thrive?
How can she come to exist?
What I held to, what I'd mourned for had only partially been him.
What really saddened my heart was losing the girl I'd allowed myself to start to become once again.
A woman embracing love.
And only in this case by the time I was ready to fall, he was no longer there to catch me.
I always hated trust falls in school.
Fucking hated them.
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