I have managed to fail at another relationship. An off-hand comment triggered a series of events that have lead to the demise of yet another promising love affair.
After I tweeted that I was single again, a friend suggested that maybe, I wasn’t meant to be in relationships. And I get her point. When I was younger, I failed at relationships because I was insecure as fuck (see previous posts). The older I became, I destroyed my relationships because I loved obsessively. And now, I make reckless (sober) comments which get me into trouble. So maybe I’m just meant to stay single and be the chief ‘Hoe Is Life’ administrator.
But I really like relationships. I like the exclusivity monogamy sometimes brings. I love the feeling of falling into someone new. I love sending morning, afternoon and good night texts. I love the drunk sex, the morning blow jobs and day drinking with a significant other. I love surprising them with my knowledge of seemingly mundane things. I love introducing them to my weird musical tastes (current obsession: ‘Ancient Voices’ aka the Survivor theme song). I just love love, fam. But love isn’t overly fond of me.
I live in the hope that one day, I’ll meet a man who’ll be so in love with me that my flaws (and to be honest, there are a lot. #MenAreTrash) won’t scare him. A man who’ll love me so much that it’ll overwhelm me. A man with the right politics or at least one open to learning about the intersectionality of life, love and politics.
I am over the idea of a Mr Right. The thought of a Mr Right Now isn’t appealing to me anymore. I want to just find someone who wants to stay and fight for me. For us. I know he’ll come (and cum 😏). So for now, I’ll just focus on my career, drink a bit more liquor and work on my mental health so that I’m ready to be overwhelmed when he does show up.