The first time I fell in love was in my early 20s. I was a seriously cynical chick back then. I’d seen more than my fair share of sadness and heartache with a little bit of premature death thrown in for good measure and was fairly certain that I’d never live past 30. I was determined to live for myself and play by my own rules and honestly, it never occured to me that I might meet someone at that stage of the game that I could possibly love. Even more improbable to me was the fact that this person seemed to have equally deep feelings for me.
Our timing couldn’t have been worse. Neither of us was in a place in our lives where we could commit to a relationship. Heck, neither of us was in a place in our lives where we could commit to a continent.
And then there was the fact that we were a complete mismatch. Our backgrounds, lifestyles, goals and even value systems were just so completely different from one another’s. Completely.
It was something kind of magical that happened. We met one morning, just bumped into one another. Casually, neither of us expecting to have anything special happen to us that day. And it was like lightning struck. We were both so completely enamored of each other from the moment we met. It took him less than a day before he used the word “soulmate” to describe me and no, we hadn’t had sex yet. Hadn’t even come close. He was a “nice” boy (like I said, we were very different).
We couldn’t ever get our shit together to have anything that resembled a functional relationship, although we were in each other’s lives for years (about 7 of them to be exact). But he played a pretty big part in my life. I truly believed that he was my soulmate. And every time I started to doubt it he would do something, say something, to make me believe all over again.
For years I held onto the belief that when our lives settled down he and I would find a way to make it work. And that (ludicrous, juvenile, fantastical) belief led me to make some really dumbass decisions at a time in my life when I should have been thinking more keenly about myself and my future. I don’t blame him. How could I? It was my fault. No one made me believe. It was my choice. And I was wrong.
I’ve been wrong a lot in my life, when it comes to guys. I’ve shared a few of those times with you. Recently, in comments and on Twitter, I’ve been questioned a lot about my lack last of trust in Mr. Potential and about my seemingly insane level of fear related to taking a leap of faith in relation to him. You see, I’ve been wrong so many time. So many times. I am starting to fear that I’ve run out of faith as far as guys and relationships go. I don’t really trust my own judgment any more. I don’t really trust myself to figure out who is worth making compromises for, who is worth making sacrifices for, who is worth risking everything for. Because if I make that leap again (which I’m sure to do, eventually, if not with Mr. Potential then with someone else) and I’m wrong, then I just might have to run away and become a hermit.
Tags: faith, relationship, sex, soulmate, trust