February 14th is right around the corner, so I suppose this might be an appropriate time to dig into my feelings and write a few thoughts about love, relationships, and the like. I’ll admit that I’ve always been a fan of Valentine’s Day, or at least the idea of it; I know there are a few people out there who like to express the sentiment that it’s a Hallmark holiday or that it’s an arbitrary day because you should show your significant other the same love every other day of the year but those people are usually fedora tipping neckbeards who think saying things like that will earn them some brownie points somehow. But really though, I think that if you should have a day to highlight and celebrate something, there are worse options than love.
If I’m being completely honest, I did contemplate writing a really negative post about how tragic my love life (or lack thereof) has been, but I decided against it because I kind of felt like it undermined the whole concept of love. If anyone was wondering, I haven’t had a real girlfriend since my freshman year of college (7 years give or take) and my wiener is like a rookie pirate who hasn’t pillaged or plundered any villages: no booty. It just occurred to me that I’ve been single for both of Barack Obama’s presidential terms. But frankly, I haven’t been actively looking to get into any type of romantic relationships so it’s a semi-deliberate decision, and I think I’ve narrowed it to two overarching reasons as to why. The first is that, although there is a running joke within my circle of friends that I fall in love with every girl I meet, I am dreadfully particular about everything, especially people. My friends who are reading this are probably nodding their heads because they know that I have a natural propensity for disdain and contempt towards strangers. It’s not that I do it intentionally; I think it’s more of a defense mechanism and there’s just so many stupid people out there. The second reason for my chronic single-dom, which kind of is an extension of the first, is that I am actually afraid to put myself out there. Actually I take that back. I’m not afraid to put myself out there; I’m afraid that if I cast my rod (ayyy) with my worm (ayyy) into this dating ocean, the wrong fish will bite. I don’t have that much bait to begin with, so I’m not trying to catch whales or crabs, and definitely nothing with tentacles. Bad metaphor aside, what I’m trying to say is love is a remarkable thing. I mean anyone who has ever been in love can attest to that fact. Food tastes better. You’ve got a pep in your step. Watching Netflix becomes a little more fun. But you know what doesn’t taste good? Giving your love to the wrong person and finding out that this motherfucker wasn’t who you thought they were. And it’s pathetic to say, but for a while, I kept donning this mask and cape and becoming Captain Save-a-Hoe, vigilantly trying to rescue damsels in distress only to find out they didn’t need rescuing and I was just a homewrecking piece of shit. So at this point in my life, I’m choosing not to chase after people so I don’t waste my time getting myself into further shitty situations. Shituations?
Okay so at this point you’re probably feeling really bad for me because I just sound really lonely and bitter, but you shouldn’t. When I first got dumped, it hurt like shit for sure. But as time passed, I began to realize that I had an itch for solitude and I’ve been scratching that thing raw ever since. Shit is empowering, yo. And with so much personality, I could be by myself and enjoy the company (thanks, Ye). The best part though is that I fucking love myself now more than ever and I think that to truly be able to love someone else, you have to irrefutably be able to love yourself. If you can’t love yourself, how can anyone believe that you love them?
Lastly, and probably most importantly, there’s nowhere to go but forward so I want to leave you with a little bit of what I hope the future brings. Do you remember the episode of FRIENDS, “The One Where Joey Tells Rachel”? The main plotline of the episode was that Joey was going to tell Rachel that he was in love with her. Many feels were had with that whole situation, but what really appealed to me was the subplot where Phoebe starts to date a guy named Don, but she believes Don to be Monica’s solemate (ha). Much to Chandler’s chagrin, Monica and Don get along really well, with both even having dreams of living in a house made of cheese. So even though Chandler doesn’t believe in the idea of soulmates, you see his insecurities start to show when he acts up back at home. Now here comes the best part: Monica tries to figure out what is wrong and Chandler tells her. It is then that Monica reveals that she doesn’t believe in soulmates either and that relationships require a lot of work, and I’ve always thought that in some bizarre way, them both not believing in soulmates ipso facto makes them soulmates. That’s what love is to me and I will not settle for anything less than brilliantly written sitcom romance.