The One Where I Don’t Fall in Love

There’s this song I used to sing to myself before sleeping: “But I wanna feel all that love and emotion Be that attached to the person I’m holdin’ Someday I’ll be fallin’ without caution But for now, I’m only people-watchin’.”

I held on to those words whenever I felt that ache to be loved or that urge to pour out all the love I have inside me onto someone else. Love is… strange.

For the longest time, I believed everyone eventually finds their soulmate. Like it was destiny. Some people meet them in school, some in college, some after they start working, and for some, much later in life. I thought it was inevitable — that my day would come too, so I just had to wait.

But life taught me otherwise. “Romeo and Juliet are the exception, not the rule” Not everyone gets that kind of love and frankly, those two didn’t even last a week, so maybe that’s not the gold standard anyway. Some people find fulfillment in ambition, in talent, in their friends. Some are lucky enough to find a partner who matches their love, but they’re rare. Love, in the way I imagined it, isn’t a rule of life, it’s an outlier, rarely does it workout for 2 right people.

And here’s what I don’t like about love: it makes you weak. Or at least it feels that way for me. Don’t get me wrong,love makes you want to be vulnerable. It brings out the softest side of you. Suddenly, you want to talk about your fears, your insecurities, the things that make you feel small. You want to lean on someone, rant, depend on them for a bit, but only them. That’s beautiful… but also terrifying.

Because what if that person isn’t the right one? What if you bare your soul and they just… double-tap your emotional essay with a heart emoji?

That’s why I keep my guard up. Not because I don’t want to be vulnerable, but because I’m scared of being vulnerable with the wrong person. (Also because therapy is expensive, and heartbreak recovery isn’t covered by insurance.)

I read something in The Art of Being Alone by Renuka Gavrani that stayed with me. She wrote about how dangerous false hope is — the belief that someday a prince will come and save us. When that doesn’t happen, we mourn something that never even existed. That shook me.

Right now, I’ve found companionship in my friends and in my work. They make me feel complete, and I’m happy. Of course, I still wish for a romantic partner someday, but I no longer treat it like a certainty or a need. If it happens, it’ll be wonderful. If it doesn’t, I’ll still be okay.(Though I wouldn’t mind if the universe threw in a tall, emotionally available human with good memes and better communication skills. Just saying.)

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For now, love, in all its different forms, is enough!