Yes, I was becoming delusional
When I was seventeen, I read three or four romcoms a month, watched romcoms and listened to Taylor Swift. Naturally, my expectations about love became pretty unrealistic.
During the spring of my junior year, I developed a crush. It was my first in a long time, so it felt overwhelming. He dressed like me and liked the same music. Looking back, I started imagining our future together. I pictured him asking me to be his girlfriend and thought about how I would introduce him on my Instagram story, even though I barely knew him. Spoiler: nothing ever happened.
This turned into a pattern for me. I would romanticize both the idea of a relationship and the boys I liked, ignoring all the red flags just because I wanted what the main characters in my romance books had. I wanted the perfect meet-cute and the perfect relationship, but I spent more time daydreaming than actually living.
All my friends had boyfriends in high school, but I didn’t have my first kiss until the week before graduation. I often felt like something was wrong with me, as if everyone else had found their person while I was just reading about it.
Because I had this unrealistic idea of what I wanted, my therapist told me to stop reading contemporary romance books for a month. At first, I was confused and didn’t get why taking away something I enjoyed would help. Still, I listened and spent the next month reading anything but romance. I read one of my favorite books, Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom and also Misery by Stephen King. More importantly, I started to think about the pattern I had created for myself.
I over-romanticized things because, deep down, I knew it wasn’t real. Part of me hoped for the perfect meet-cute and to fall in love like in the books. But, another part of me was scared to let anyone get to know the real me. I think that’s why many of the boys I liked were avoidant. I knew they weren’t right for me, but it felt safer to like someone who would leave than to let in someone I truly cared about.
This brings me back to all the books I read. I preferred reading about romance instead of taking risks with real people. It was easier to blame my high expectations on the books than to admit I was really just afraid of people leaving.
Since I wasn’t reading romance books, my therapy sessions started to focus on this new self-reflection. I began working on my fear and where it really came from. I still don’t know if I was avoidant or anxiously attached.
That one-month book ban turned into six months without romance novels. I wanted to face my fear of being too much, so I started learning more about people. My life wasn’t full of romantic love, but it was full of friendship. I talked about it with my friends and began journaling about what made me anxious. I realized I was already surrounded by love. I remember one session when my therapist asked, “You’re so afraid of people leaving, but can you name three people who have actually left?” Of course, I couldn’t name anyone.
I’m still figuring out how to handle romantic relationships and what dating should feel like. I’ve read many beautiful contemporary romances since then, but now, instead of thinking that’s exactly what love should look like, I focus on the small moments in the books that make me feel understood. Like when the main guy remembers the main girl’s favorite movies and books and watches them just to talk to her about them. Or how love should make you feel calm, show up in cozy Sunday nights and mean asking what’s wrong instead of going quiet. And, most importantly, I’m realizing that it’s okay if my “story” looks different. We all find our own version of love, sometimes in unexpected places, and that’s just as beautiful. I’m learning to be patient with myself and hold hope that my own version will be worth the wait.
So no, I wasn’t delusional. I was just scared.