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Thursday, 14 February 2019

Valentine Blues


Most of us want romantic love. We want a partner to share ourselves with. Songs and movies and literature are littered with it. I've never been the romantic type - I even sneer at romance in public or roll my eyes and try and play the dark/cynical 'got no time, my love is my art' card. But it's mostly bullshit. Romantic love is one of the things I want more than anything in the world next to my creative artistic passions.

I guess part of it is fear driven. I had that fear at fourteen and I have it at twenty-one (and as I approach twenty-two this year). Fear that I'll never be in love or know what that means. The sad thing is I have so much going for myself. I've always been one of those people that really does appear to have it all; looks, brains, talent, a loving family. I (seem to) have every possible advantage my way.
I've had plenty of boyfriends, flings, casual sex partners - getting a guy isn't really that difficult for me.

I'm not saying that to boast, I'm saying that because I'm not one of those people that sits online going 'ooooh I can't talk to guys/girls and I haven't been laid in like two years and ohhh I'm so ugly boo-hoo.' Having depression, anxiety and a self-destructive side somehow hasn't hindered my ability to attract guys (ok it may have contributed to them scattering, but there's always another round the corner right?)

I guess that's partly why I'm confused. I really do seem like the type of person to easily have a long-lasting relationship. Nothing is what it seems is it? Being beautiful and intelligent and creatively talented don't equate to being long-term girlfriend material. Even though I sound a little up-myself I'm really not - I'm a relatively decent gal; try and treat people with basic respect and kindness. I'm not a bitch or a psycho.

And yet. I've never had any luck with boyfriends. Not like I date arseholes; my last three boyfriends were all wonderful and kind to me, but none lasted more than a few months. And maybe you'll say I'm still young, loads of time, blah blah. That's what everyone seems to say. But truthfully I'm starting to doubt I'll ever be in a long-term relationship. Is that stupid? I just feel like I'm going to be forever in-and-out of short-term relationships or that I'll get more and more bitter and cynical and disappointed with each failed relationship that eventually I'll be so cold to whichever poor chap I'm with that he won't even be able to talk to me.

Sure, I've cared deeply and intensely about guys, but I haven't had that long-lasting mutual love that everyone else seems to feel. I wish I knew what it would be like to wake up one Valentine's Day to a guy who adored me and bought me flowers and felt blessed to have me in his life. I can't relate to this massive part of the human experience and I feel so lame complaining about it because as I mentioned, I have a lot going for myself. If I say I'm sad because my love life is a bowl of ashes people will go 'yeah, but you're young and gorgeous and talented and you've had boyfriends, stop feeling so sorry for yourself.'

I don't even know why I want to be with somebody, as relationships always end up causing me misery and anxiety and I crawl out of them covered in sweat and tears, even the good ones. But every part of my life just seems to progress and head upwards except this one. I can't be the only person right? I can't be the one person in their early twenties whose never been in love or had a valentine despite wanting to. I know I'm not and this is partly why I blog; to reach out to those who may feel the same. To feel less alone.

So what do I do? Nothing. I don't think there's anything I can do besides continue to function as best as I can, and be grateful for all the good in my life. For me, being in a good place means not drinking; cutting, smoking, smashing things up or starting drama online. It means having three meals a day and enough sleep and the desire to get out of bed. It means not feeling suicidal and not having panic attacks four times a day. Even if I'm not super happy, I'm not miserable either. I'm content and content with being content because that's better than wanting to be dead. I guess right now that's enough. Happy Valentine's Day to myself for the twenty-first year in a row.

Related posts:

https://www.thezarinamachablog.co.uk/2017/07/love.html

https://www.thezarinamachablog.co.uk/2018/02/benefits-of-being-single.html

https://www.thezarinamachablog.co.uk/2019/01/inadequacy.html

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If you enjoy my posts check out my novel Every Last Psycho. Available to purchase on Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07F44CMNJ