Be Mine.

Love. . .

          The four letter word that most dream about while others fear. What is it about this word that somehow has us wrapped around its non-existent finger? Some spend a lifetime looking for it, some spend a lifetime trying to recovering from it and then there are the ones who spend a lifetime sharing it with someone else. As for me, I have spent only a mere three years trying to discover what it really is. As a self proclaimed “fly trap for dysfunctional men” I haven’t exactly had the best luck finding someone to call my own since I was sixteen. But that didn’t mean I was gallivanting around my hometown throwing my heart around for just anyone to catch. No, I played it smart even when my heart overpowered my head. I seemed to have a safety net to catch myself before smashing my head face first into the concrete of making a big mistake. I was part of an endangered species who, no matter how many times we were rejected we still believed in love and all its beauty. I was quite proud of myself actually. In all my four long, tiresome years of dating I could count how many relationships I had one hand. Let’s see, there was:

1.     “G”. My first relationship. With only two year age gap between us, he was a kind man with eyes that made my knees weak and who looked like he belonged in an American Eagle catalog. We lasted about four months.

2. M. Crockett a.k.a “MLC”. Our complicated-sometimes long distant-relationship was on and off for about two years before I called it quits. I felt bad because every time our lines of communication would open up again he seemed to think that we belonged together. Which in the end; would cause problems between us thus ending our lines of communication.

3. M. Lopez a.k.a. “Angel”. My first “abusive” relationship; he was as vain as they come from the three different products he used in his hair to his immaculate colonial apartment to which I would dread going over to. It took about two months of his emotional, verbal and mental abuse before I called it quits. After that, I took a year and a half off from the dating scene to recover.

4. V. Romano., music major at ENMU and the first guy I fell for after my little break. He was patient, a complete gentleman and in love with music as much as I was. But after a few weeks of dating and a whole week of “being official” he let me down easy.

5.  A. Valdez a.k.a. “X” the one whose heart I broke more than once. After much analyzing and discussion with my friends we came to the conclusion that he was simply a rebound. I didn’t mean to treat him that way, I genuinely cared for him. We just didn’t work out the way everyone wanted us to. We have since then ended our lines of communication. Not exactly something that we saw coming, but it was an unspoken, mutual decision.

        All these men have nothing in common except one thing, me. I learned something after having a conversation with one of my greatest friends ever, Joy Larrabee. She didn’t understand why I fell for these guys. According to her I was “too sweet of a guy” for all of them, which made me feel pretty good about myself (considering #4 is her best friend to which she defended my honor when he wanted to break up with me). The funny thing is, everyone I know was always happy for me when I was in a relationship, but when things didn’t work out they all told me the same thing: “You two just didn’t LOOK like a couple” like we didn’t give off the couple vibe. Did I take so much time in between each relationship that people somehow grew accustomed to me being single? If Carrie was missing the bride gene, was I missing the boyfriend gene? Was I missing that tiny piece of genetic code that made it easy for me to mix with someone else’s body chemistry and make it look like we actually belonged together?

     During those four long, tiresome years filled with break ups and kiss offs I was looking for something. I was looking for that unconditional love and I realized that it’s not possible. It’s always a little bit conditional when it comes to people. Just the tiniest bit, but it’s true. I wasn’t becoming cynical any time soon. I was going to let love happen in its own time and having someone to call my own was worth waiting for and worth more than all the roses on Valentine’s Day. 

Xoxo.

B.