Epic Love is a Unicorn (I Still Believe)

It’s out there, but I’m not going to look for it anymore

Life hasn’t given me a lot of reasons to believe in epic love. The only evidence I have that it exists is because I’ve felt it. I have. Alone. It’s limited evidence because I believe that truly epic love is reciprocated. It can’t be the torch we carry for someone who only cares about us but is otherwise unmoved by our existence.

But I know that if I’ve met someone’s eyes and have felt the entire world hold its breath, if I’ve touched a hand and felt fireworks, and if I’ve said a name and felt it tremble through me, then I know that love like that is rare and beautiful and actually exists. I know it’s possible, having seen the glimpses of it myself. I keep believing — even when it would be so much easier if I could dismiss it entirely.

Because I believe in epic love, I don’t want to settle for anything less. Life is far too short. I think we all deserve a love that feels like that — not one that completes us but one that moves and inspires us, a love that makes our lives infinitely richer for having shared them. Epic love isn’t perfect love; it’s just a healthy love that chooses us and keeps doing so, a love that tries — however imperfectly.

There are two things I know:

Epic love is out there.

I’m not going to go out looking for it.

Those facts can exist at the same time. We can acknowledge that the love stories we dream of do exist, but we can equally opt out of trying to hunt down this rare and precious unicorn. Instead of expending our energy on endless dating apps and leading-to-nowhere-fast conversations, we can devote our time to cultivating the lives we want to lead. We can accept the existence of epic love — and let it find us where it will.

This is probably the scenic route of love — the one that could take the longest. At first, the potential timeline gave me pause, but I have so much healing to do. My heart, broken again, needs time. It needs to learn to beat to its own rhythm and not to one name. My breath needs to be pulled through my body without feeling every loss move through me. My eyes need to be clear of memories and sleepless nights and tears that won’t do any good to fall.

When we don’t take the time to heal, we go out into the world and hurt other people on our sharp edges. We need to have the self-awareness to assess our own needs. Right now, I don’t need an overflowing inbox of messages. I don’t need to weed through the “hey, beautiful”, “wyd”, “u up” messages to attempt to connect with a human with a still-beating heart and an interest in something more than using me as a buffer against loneliness. Understanding a need for healing and time to focus on myself honors my journey without hurting anyone on theirs.

Too often, we take our unhealed wounds and go out into the world, cutting others against our sharp edges. When we don’t take the time to heal, we carry that baggage forward — making the next partner responsible for the last partner’s damage. When we never take the time to heal, and many don’t, we take out a lifetime of damage on those we choose to partner.

Then, there’s the greater understanding that loneliness cannot be assuaged with anything as simple as another body lying in the bed beside us. Once we’ve had even the smallest taste of the possibility of epic love, we want it all — the shared passion, the deeper intimacy, and the craving to know another person as well as we let them know us. Shallow interactions have limited attraction. They drain our energy and give nothing in return.

It’s so easy to get in a hurry about love — particularly for those of us who have long felt the sharp sting of loneliness while watching those around us fall in love and land safely. I have felt love, but I have not been fortunate enough to feel it returned to me. It can feel like we’re waiting for it, as if our lives don’t start until love walks in the room. Yet, our lives are happening every minute, and waiting for something to happen feels like wasted time.

But I have been in this place before. In fact, pause and rewind time. Watch my heart reassemble itself slowly. Watch broken pieces move back into place and hear the steady beat of his name in my heart. Watch the shrinking in reverse, the growth and expansion played in the wrong direction. Watch the moment when the door opened and absolutely everything changed. Cue a cinematic brightening, music where there was none. Then, keep going. Watch the door close instead, my heart return to me. Back, back, back. To when I was alone but happy, to when I believed in epic love, but my heart belonged entirely to myself.

I have come back to this decision time and time again — to be open to love and available for it but not to go out on a madcap scavenger hunt trying to find it. Every time I emerge with a broken heart and bruised faith, I recommit to myself. I determine that the best route to epic love is to focus on nurturing my life, not on devoting my energy to chasing down love.

When it comes, I’ll leave a light on and a welcome mat out, but I won’t be sitting idly by waiting. I’ll be busy healing, living, and loving my life instead.