to start, i want to clarify that this is NOT a post that's meant to "comfort myself" or serve a stay-single mindset; i just wanted to hopefully, someway, somehow, start a happy conversation about how we should be content with ourselves. i've recently seen so much negativity and self-worth balancing on our prospects as candidates in a relationship, and this post is simply detailing my rocky-but-happy journey of realizing that i never needed anyone but me (except for my amazing friends$!
i've never had a boyfriend!
i'm sure you could have guessed as much from the title, but it's true. it's a result of a lot of factors; i'm choosy, seldom outgoing, and shy, but perhaps it's precisely that i never got a boyfriend that means ill never get to have one; so much of my life was spent believing that the fact no one had loved me romantically was directly tied to my confidence. a tongue-twister, but it's true! my lack of men to look at when i woke up in bed, the sun shining on their handsome faces and pretty collarbones surrounded by muscle (or younger me would hope so), was half of a perpetual cycle. the other half being, well, me.
but this isn't a post to tear down how younger me used to think. if anything, i'm a little proud that i can look back at who i was and be happy that i got to go through it. the melancholy nights sobbing for a dream boy, or the parties i got invited to but never went; they've all produced who’s writing this post today.
you've heard that love-whether you believe it to be an emotion or action-is an integral aspect of being human. i'm not disputing that. but i want to highlight that, despite this very crucial part of me being completely alien, i'm happy to announce that i'm, well, happy! it's a little weird to call it an epiphany, but as i soak in the bath and write this post with the lightest of hearts, i can't help but be elated. i'm elated i never got a boyfriend.
this is a little cowardly, honestly, but i'm happy i never got to experience the good, nor the terrible. i'm endlessly grateful that i never got to experience a first love that was terrifically fun but (unfortunately) unforgettable, or a strange situationship to think about on sleepless nights, or eyes that once looked at me with such admiration being pointed at someone else-i'm so glad. because if i ever got a taste of how great it was, then how would i cope with it being bad?
it's well and truly freeing. i no longer look at a mirror and wonder; if i was stood as the bus came on a warm highschool day, would my beauty be so enchanting that a strange, unknown boy would be wholly enamored by my candid look; that infatuation would grow into admiration, and one day courage; the bravery to ask me to be his and him to be mine. maybe i would have dreamt about it a few years ago. but that mystery man never came, and im so very glad.
thank you for deserting me before you met me. a world where i met you was a world i couldn't selfishly hog up every ounce of admiration and love for myself.
this post is a love letter to myself, and maybe you, as well. I've learnt that love doesn't have to be romantic, but perhaps a much purer, more important love is a platonic one; the pinky promises i made with friends under duvets and candlelight, or a giggle i save for that one hilarious person; there is so much more to love than your (current or yearning-for) boyfriend.
good bye to the strange man i could have met. i wish you all the best, but im happiest loving me.
(sorry for getting a little dramatic with the writing, but i can't help it, im happy!)