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Will Anyone Ever Love Me Again?

Will Anyone Ever Love Me Again?

Originally published 4-12-12

I’ll keep this blog timely and then I’ll jump back into what has been the year of fun for me. Super fun! Crazy crazy fun! But that’s for later.

A few nights ago, I had a little bit of breakdown and it had been a year or so, so cut me some slack. It happened in a Walgreens parking lot, always good. The good folks at Walgreens weren’t sure whether to offer me a tissue or keep on walking.

I just felt a surge of overwhelming loneliness and maybe a little bit of despair. So I called my comadre and she soothed me as I bought some dog food and oh yeah, some diet Sprite, because I clearly needed a vodka cocktail when I got home.

I ugly cried and talked gibberish for about 10 minutes until I could catch my breath and then I said it, I said 9 words that I had never said out loud for fear that if I uttered them, it would be a sign of weakness and certainly defeat, but I said them anyway. I said, “I’m afraid no one will ever love me again.”

Then I couldn’t stop saying it! “I I lovable?” “Maybe I’m just not meant to be loved.” “Maybe that’s just not my lot in life, to be loved.” “Maybe I’m just too difficult?” Even now as I’m writing, I have to pause and look at all those statements again. It’s sad, but it’s how I feel from time to time. So there it is folks. I am scared that no one will ever love me again. I am, and that’s the truth of it. Oof.

The almost ridiculous other side of that sad coin is that, I do what I want every moment of every day. I laugh and love people and dance. I climb mountains with girlfriends, eat brunch on patios, kayak, take flying trapeze lessons, get to see people like Jay Z and Bruce Springsteen and Keith Urban perform as part of my job. I think I’m a pretty decent daughter and sister and friend (but you’d have to ask my friends and family to be sure). I do right by my pets, I don’t have overwhelmingly freakish requests like…I can only eat chicken before 5pm, I am not running from the law, I don’t accept candy from strangers—and as great as all those things are I still get lonely and have a pity party from time to time. I should be shot.

For the last few years I have casually dated and had a grand old time but always hid behind the notion that I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. I’d say things like, “I’m just so busy,” or “I’m just not ready for that,” or “I don’t want a commitment, I just want to have fun!” I’m unsure if those sentiments were defense mechanisms to prevent myself from getting hurt or if they were the truth.

I was basically saying,

      Dear Cupid,

I’m not really going to take this dating thing seriously, this is just fun! J  But if things work out, that’s cool, because I do really want someone to: go get pancakes with on Sunday mornings, walk Beau with, buy new towels at Target with, cuddle with.

Well I have been playing up my shtick for so long, I’m not entirely sure where it ends and where my true feelings begin.

Do I want a boyfriend? Maybe. Do I want a husband? My throat is already constricting in anxiety as I type this, so…probably not.  Do I want to be in love? Yes. Yes…I most certainly want to be in love.

And as uncomfortable as it is to hear someone I like say, “Well, it’s just not the right time,” or “ I think you’re real nice but….” Or “I’m just not that into you,” I am going to try to believe in love. I’m way too young be totally cynical!

One day as I was being cynical and down on love, my friend said to me, “There’s someone out there for everyone, there was someone for Siegfried and there was someone for Roy. There will be someone for you.”

Here’s to love, kids.

Sisses do Vegas

Sisses do Vegas

Here's to you, Lance.

Here's to you, Lance.