The things we think about in the dark

Feeling introspective and slightly melancholy lately. Not sure why. Comes and goes in waves I guess. The thin veneer of positivity is starting to crumble.

Most of my life, I’ve been cautiously optimistic about everything. Think positive, but have a back up plan kinda thing.

But it’s hard to be optimistic, cautiously or otherwise, when your heart is involved.

When I was 15 or 16 years old, my father told me I probably wasn’t gonna get married.

We weren’t fighting and I don’t think he was trying to be mean, just more a statement of fact.

“Jen, I really don’t see you ever getting married”

End statement. Full stop.

He never said why he thought that.

But at that age, you still believe what your parents tell you as gospel truth. I believed that would never get married. I believed it so much that never let myself imagine my perfect partner, or an amazing proposal, or a dream wedding. I barely even dated because if getting married was winning, I was never going to win so what was the point of playing the game.

Not that I am any good at the game.

I’m naturally introverted and shy. I cannot flirt my way out of a paper bag. More often than not, I miss the subtle cues that someone is into me.

I really am a hopeless case sometimes.

There was a point when I thought maybe I’m not so hopeless. I met a boy I loved and he loved me. 6 months in, we would have conversations that started out “When we get married...” , like it was inevitable. And while it still took time for me to get to there, I did get to the point where I thought it was okay to have the dream - the proposal, the wedding, the married life.

Then gradually “when we get married”

turned into “if we get married”

then “we don’t need to get married”

and finally “I don’t want to get married”.

When you already have self-esteem issues, “I don’t want to get married” sounds a lot like “I don’t want to marry YOU”.

So I fell apart and I tried the best I could to put myself back together. The truth is I’ve always been slightly broken. I read the things and watched the things and listened to the things and did the things.

All the things that are supposed to help you discover yourself and let go of the pain and the past and the disappointment and THE BROKENNESS.

But the thing about being always slightly broken is that the pieces lose their sharpness over time and never really fit together well, never let you forget that you are broken.

Outwardly, I remain cautiously optimistic and I really do have a lot to be positive for.

I love my friends and family.

I feel like I am making a difference in little ways with my writing.

I am trying to live my best life.

Focus on me. Not settle for mediocrity just because I don’t want to be scared or alone.

But in the quiet times, in the lonely times, I realize that it’s just me now and I can be brutally honest with myself: Loneliness is fucking hard and I am a single black woman of a certain age with a professional degree who is romantically awkward at best. If it hasn’t happened by now, statistically it’s not gonna happen.

But still...I want the fairytale.

I want my fairytale.

I want to be loved, truly and completely loved.

I don’t want the semblance of love.

I don’t want to fulfill a need.

I don’t want to fix anything.

I don’t want to be arm candy.

I don’t want to be a substitute mother.

I don’t want to be lonelier in a relationship than I am by myself.

I don’t want to made to feel small, imperfect or unworthy.

I don’t want to have to prove my love.

I don’t want to be used and discarded.

I want to be heard.

I want to be seen.

I want to be valued.

I want to be loved just as I am.

I want to be loved without conditions, caveats or asterisks.

I want to feel completely vulnerable and know I am safe.

I want to feel home.

I want to feel wanted.

I want to love, honestly.