One of the things that came too late was realizing I had fallen into a place of complacency. Things I swore I’d never let slide — or words I never wanted to say — were slipping into my reality. I was fortunate to be raised in a household where the standards for love and relationships felt like something out of a movie. My parents, my mother and stepfather, showed devoted loyalty and love for one another. Every day, he raised the bar even higher for the men who would one day enter his daughters’ lives.
After raising four girls before me, he had practically mastered the intimidation factor every time a new boy walked through the door. He never tried to appear tough or scary, but he never cast a shadow on the depth of love he had for his family. All it takes is a few hours of watching my parents interact to know there is not a single thing on this earth he wouldn’t do for her.
That kind of devotion is what intimidates nervous teenage boys and humbles cocky college students. In today’s dating world, relationships have become casual, nonchalant even. Most people crave deep love, but they know dating culture has shifted away from it. People don’t get taken on surprise dates, asked to be official partners, or try to win families over the way they used to. I’m not sure if this is a societal shift or simply a lack of standards or a lack of role models.
For a while, I was lucky enough to experience the same kind of love I had watched between my parents.
I was loved inside and out, and there was nothing my boyfriend wouldn’t do for me. He was next to perfect. My wish was his command. Every day, he tried to impress me even more — to make me fall deeper in love with him. But like most things that feel too good to be true, it was. After about a year, that effort and pure devotion began to slip. The attention and commitment we had to being the best versions of ourselves for each other began to falter. I became comfortable with silence and half-hearted gestures. Of course, we had disagreements, but we stayed committed to making things work.
The months that followed were filled with picture-perfect moments ruined by tears and the desperate need to be understood. I became complacent in that lifestyle because I kept asking myself: Why give up something that could be so good at times, for anything else? I loved him, and he loved me. I always knew that at the end of the night. But when is love no longer enough?
Whenever I feel lost and unsure of what to do, I think back to my dad. It would break his heart to know some of the ways I had been treated, and he would blame himself for not setting a better example. But the truth is, he did. I think about the standard he set and remember I know what kind of love I deserve—and how that love should look and feel.
I wish I could project the standard he set in front of every person going through the same level of confusion. To remind them that someone out there is waiting to give them the love they are worthy of, and to never choose comfort over the pursuit of genuine love and happiness.