Why I Am Giving Up On Romance This Winter

It feels like a box of illusions when I long for something real.

It’s going to be 6 months since I took a break from dating.

When I started online dating in 2019 after a painful break up, my only thought was to take my mind off from the heart break I was experiencing at that time.

I thought it would be fun and exciting meeting new people, and getting to know the world better. But actually dating is exhausting, time consuming and most of the time it feels like a second job.

After six months of complete dating break, my world probably looks the same from the outside. What’s different is how I’m experiencing my life now.

In the last few years, I’d had countless dates and a bunch of inconsequential flings, but I never found anyone with whom I really liked to spend my time with. It’s not like I have high standards.

But most of the guys I met kind of felt intimidated by me — sometime I am too ambitious for them or too feminist or too independent. My mind really goes what the f$%k what it means to be “too much”.

I have received comments like — “you are way too self-sufficient and it seems you don’t need anyone.” “You are way smarter than I am” or my favorite — “You are too liberal, open, and wouldn’t fit in a domestic life with children and all.”

It actually feel like I’m walking into that ballroom after an earthquake, sifting through the rubble that is all over the rutted floor. I’m kicking a pathway through useless gender stereotypes, traditional gender roles in heterosexual relationships, romantic delusions, romantic expectations, and sexual assumptions.

These all look like broken toys to me now.

What does it mean to fall in love? What could it feel like without all this nonsense?

Can I find a way to have stars in my eyes but still see clearly?

Can I be a woman without having to be a wife or girlfriend or a mother? Can a romantic relationship be founded on an equal friendship without losing its romance?

Would I be less of a woman when I say- I don’t want to have my biological children?

The thing I learned is, most men want to see women who need them, make them feel superior and let them do the heavy lifting when it comes to taking the important decision.

It’s not like I never tried to fit the bill specially for the guys I really liked and thought they might like me back if I do or say things that they want.

But in the last six months I realized, I have not been fair to myself. There is nothing too independent or too successful and I need to own it, not hiding it.

You could say that I’m bitter after a lifetime of romantic disappointment, but honestly, I’m just burnt out. I’m sick of it. I’m bored. And sometimes I just feel like throwing up. None of it means anything to me anymore.

Since I celebrated my last birthday, my hopes and dreams about relationships have shifted dramatically. I no longer feel the need to get married.

I spent years trying to understand what was wrong with me. I saw therapists and life coaches, and read self-help books. At times I drank too much. Ate poorly. Cried frequently.

I learned how joyful life could be if I filled each moment with activities I wanted to do for my own pleasure or prosperity, and not because I might find the love of my life. How liberating to not only put myself first but also prioritize myself exclusively. How much healthier I could be. How much happier.

Now, after more than a 6 months from my dating break — my world probably looks the same from the outside: same job, same apartment, same friends.

What’s different is how I’m experiencing my life. Sometimes the best part of my day is returning to my apartment, where I can sing off-key, yell at the television, dance, zone out, wear mismatched clothes or let the dishes pile up without worrying what anyone else wants or thinks.

I even become bothered imagining someone else in my space, rearranging the furniture or making something I don’t want to eat for dinner. I’ve become grateful for the complete control I have over my schedule and my wallet, and delight in knowing I can quit my job and move to the other side of the planet if and when I want.

I’ve committed more deeply to my friendships, so I’m enjoying renewed intimacy with old friends and more layered connections with new ones.

Life without a partner can be agonizingly lonely and plain boring. Certainly, there are days when the emotional seclusion gets to me and I don’t do much at all.

There are times when I desperately wish I had a partner, like if a nightmare wakes me in the middle of the night or a professional crisis hits and I need someone to talk to. When I face the trials and terrors that everyone suffers, I have to get myself through.

Still, there’s no more anxiety or fear about love. There’d been good days, not so good days and days that were hell.

I was already living the worst-case scenario, and I was surviving it. Once I accepted my circumstances, I started to thrive.

Do I still hope to meet a great guy? Certainly.

Being single is not necessarily better than being partnered, at least not for me. Not yet. But there is still life. Lots of it. And whether or not someone comes, I want to live it.

Be Bold

Be Courageous

Be Your Best

Citation : https://www.huffpost.com/entry/giving-up-on-love_n_5dadbe28e4b0422422c8f557

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