At what point do you relinquish the idea of ever finding The One? Or do you, like my best friend tells me, just take a giant blind leap of faith?
On days when I am overcome by the notion of romance and happily-ever-afters, I convince myself that with enough patience and faith, it will all work out in the end. That nobody really knows for sure, they just go through the motions anyway.
But the truth is that I’m too opinionated to conform. Too selfish to try hard. Too insecure to jump.
And as I take a step back, I see all the differences in opinion, all the diverging goals, all the opposing interests. And I realize that there is a point where respect for individualism stops and plain disagreement begins.
But more than stubborn-ness alone, I’m both concerned and disturbed by how much I’m willing (or rather unwilling) to compromise my own wants for his. Because I’ve finally learned to love my life as it is, in its entirety. I love myself and my flaws, my family with their quirks, my job with its stress, and I feel settled and at home, when home as I knew it was pulled out from under my feet years ago. At a point when I’ve become so sure of everything, it then becomes glaringly obvious that his path will only lead me in another direction.
So maybe it’s true that I have not fully made up my mind. That I lack resolve. That I’m still unsure. Because I feel like I’m losing me. That I’m becoming one of those women I despise and look down upon. Weak in the face of love. But loved, nevertheless. Does it have to boil down to this?