Saturday, April 4, 2009

what is love OR baby, don't hurt me

This isn't going to be one of those "woe, is me" posts. This isn't going to be one of those "I hate being single" posts or even one of those "being single is awe-sum" posts.

This is just going to be ... well, this is just going to be one of those posts.

Lately, I find myself wondering about this thing we call love. That's right, I said it. L-O-V-E. Lots of weddings equals lots of conversations with girlfriends about how they knew he (or she) was "the one". And, ick of all icks, they keep saying, "When you know, you know."

No offense, Married and Engaged Friends, but I just don't believe you.

Well, I do and I don't.

You see, I knew once. I really did. I met this boy and thought, "This is the one for me." I thought there would never be anyone else in the world for me. I felt like God had designed this person just for me, and I was so incredibly lucky to have him in my life. He made me want to be a better person. He made me feel like sunshine and rainbows and lucky charms. It was not about lowercase love. It was the capital L-O-V-E thing.

But then The One turned on me and turned out to be someone I didn't even recognize. Yes, we were young. Yes, people change. Yes, I know all that. However, being hurt by The One doesn't mean your brain just switches into that "Oh, he must not be The One" mode overnight. You realize it with time (read: therapy).

Maybe I'm cynical, but I just don't believe in it anymore. First I meet The One who Really Wasn't The One, then I meet The One with Sparks with whom I am completely incompatible and then I meet The Compatible One but there were no sparks. Seriously - is there ever a winning combination? Does a "One" singular exist?

I just don't think I will ever have those feelings again. I'm no longer a young, impressionable girl with low self-esteem who wants a boy to sweep in and make me feel like a princess. I am a Working Girl in every sense of the word. I work for a living. I work for the world. I work at being okay. I work because I love it. I work because I have no other choice. Maybe now that I'm a different person, a better person, a happier person - I will know in a different way?

Love? Ick. All I know is that I don't know.


Levana said...

Disillusionment with love only gets worse. But, then again the older you get the more wisdom you have -- and more wisdom usually leads to a deeper and abiding love for yourself which leads to better quality relationships with others. So, nevermind the first part. Love itself only gets better.

The Working Girl said...

I love you! That's a fact.