For quite some time, I have been in denial about a certain trend in my life, namely, my lack of any romantic success. For every disappointment, I’ve managed to come up with an excuse. It has seemed as though a justification of the failure would preclude it being scored as a Loss—maybe even a Win, or at least a Tie. This excuse-making has reached ridiculous proportions and it is time to end it.
Looking around, I see so many amazing women who are in their 30s, 40s, and up, and are still single. I’m certainly no better than any of them. If these awesome women are still unmarried, what chance do I have? I’m not a princess and this is most definitely not a fairytale. I’m just me. I’m okay with that, even if that means I’ll just be alone. I don’t want to be, but maybe I’m meant to be on my own anyway.
It’s exhausting to always end up overlooked, forgotten and outright rejected. A girl can only take so much failure before she feels like she should just go ahead and remove herself from the gene pool entirely. My self-confidence has been consistently trashed for the past several weeks, months, even years. No more. I am officially quitting. I will not be bitter or cynical (or dabble in lesbianism); I will simply stop dreaming and accept reality.
If the fairytale has come true for you, wonderful! Cherish it, protect it! For myself, I have to stop expecting dreams to come true. I have to stop waking up every day, hoping that day might be the day I’m finally swept off my feet. I need to stop looking out my window for Prince Charming and just go right on being fabulous all by myself. If someone wants me, he’ll have to come find me because I am done waiting for something that might never happen.