When you’ve been searching for love, it can be easy to forget the things you most hated about being in a relationship. Like being accountable to someone else or having to be considerate of someone else’s feelings. Sometimes we forget the hard truths about being in a relationship.
From The Frisky
In my eight year stint as a single person, I became very proficient at dating and breaking up. I learned how to flirt, I became skilled at meeting men both on and offline, I developed coping mechanisms for making it through horrendous first dates, I came to understand how not to take rejection personally, I honed in on what I was looking for rather than who was looking for me and I came up with a protocol for moving on with as little emotional scarring as possible when things didn’t work out. (And I typically didn’t expect them too.) These were all incredibly difficult and, at times, painful skills to master, but I think I just about had them under control. And then a bout of dating fatigue and a stroke of dumb luck later and the thing that I thought would never happen for me happened — I was in a serious relationship faster then I could say DATING SUCKS. After the first few moments of being annoyingly in love (I still am), I found myself with my back up against an OH FUCKwall.
My boyfriend was out of town and I was having a your garden variety bad day. My best friend, my go-to person for talking to, was also out of town. I felt — for the first time in a long time — very alone. Like out in deep space all alone, not part of the human race ALONE. Something about falling in love can be isolating. You’re launched from your old single life into a completely new reality and find yourself orbiting an unfamiliar stratosphere without anything holding your feet to the earth. In order to mitigate this feeling, I’ve sought out little, familiar things that bring me comfort and remind me that I am still me. For instance, I’ve become very attached my favorite coffee mug. When I’m at home, I’ll only drink out of that mug. And if it’s dirty, I’ll wash it, just so I can drink out of it. I’ve also taken to carrying around my purple umbrella with me at all times in case it rains. At least then, I reason, I will always be prepared.
I wasn’t prepared the night I felt so all alone that I found myself sobbing in my bed. The last time I was in this state it was the dead of winter and I felt hopeless about ever having love in my life. And now it was 90 degrees and I was loved fully and completely, yet, I was shedding tears (and sweat) about the unknown. I missed my old life, which seemed to have disappeared with the spring. But it was not necessarily that I wanted my old life back; I wanted to understand what my new life was, who the new me was.
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