Oh Valentine’s, how I have such a love-hate relationship with you. Love, because who isn’t happy to see their friends, family, and random couples on the street celebrating an important moment in their relationship. All the cute Valentine’s posts, declarations of love, or even cutesy Galentine’s events.
What’s to hate? Well, maybe that they have someone to share the day with. Maybe it’s clichĂ©, maybe buying chocolates and flowers is lame, but at least they have a connection.Â
It’s a weird feeling, though, since I’m not lacking for connections. I have amazing friends and a supportive family, but I feel like there’s a piece missing. Something I’m not even entirely sure I want, or that can be filled with love.Â
Take my first relationship, for example (my only relationship). We met the summer before my senior year of high school. A summer fling, if you will, except not really. We talked for three months, went on roughly 5-ish dates, and didn’t become an official couple until October of that year. He asked me to be his girlfriend at my homecoming dinner, actually — In front of a group of some close friends, their dates, and some very shocked wait staff (I scared them a bit when I yelped out loud after being asked, not my finest moment).Â
We dated for roughly 6 months. We did normal relationship things like texting frequently, going out to eat at our favorite ramen places, exchanging Christmas gifts, have some dinners with each other’s families. The odd part, we never kissed once. We barely held hands. The thought of either would send me spiraling, both with emotions of fear and slight nausea. I would spend nights racked with anxiety, silently fearing our next date. It’s important to note that throughout the relationship, we had conversations about the fact that physical intimacy made me uncomfortable, and he reassured me that he was okay with taking things “slow.”
“Slow” lasted around 4-5 months. Up to the point that I started feeling bad, and he began to get frustrated. I felt bad that I wasn’t comfortable; I felt bad that I was, in a sense, denying him that factor in our relationship. I felt bad that each time he would bring it up, I continuously said that I wasn’t ready. When asked if I might ever move past this hesitance, I said that I didn’t know. Was it one off? Did I not like him? Why was I so uncomfortable with such a basic relationship milestone?Â
I admit that this wasn’t the only thing I struggled with in our relationship. For a while, I wrestled with myself over whether or not I even liked him romantically. I know this sounds crazy. How could I have dated someone for so long and not known whether or not I liked him?
The truth is, I don’t know. I enjoyed hanging out with him, I liked the conversations we had, and part of me was happy that someone was interested. I think these reasons are separate from how I felt, though. I was missing a spark. The one they talk about in the books. The cute lovey dovey feeling, the knowing at first sight, the belief that the person they’re admiring is the prettiest person they’ve ever seen, the connection.Â
At the 6th month mark, I felt as if my unwillingness to connect on a deeper level was hindering our relationship, so I broke up with him. I thought this was the best move. As much as I liked him as a person, I couldn’t help but feel like I either must not feel the same way or I couldn’t be the person he needed in the relationship.Â
After we broke up, I will admit I was relieved. No pressure, no expectations, no guilt.Â
I used to look back at my past relationship and wonder, is this what it will always be like? Will I always find intimacy hard? Am I doomed to be single forever?Â
Do I want to be single forever?Â
Unrealistically, no, the idea of a loving relationship seems amazing. Having a valentine, going on dates, talking for hours, telling someone everything, who wouldn’t want that? Except, realistically, I can’t picture that. I can’t see myself cuddling on a couch, I can’t see myself kissing someone, and I can’t even see myself holding someone’s hand without cringing.Â
Could my feelings change over time? Maybe. Have I just “not met the right person yet”? Maybe. Except what if romantic love isn’t what I need in my life right now?Â
What if I want to focus on myself? What if I can find the love I’m craving somewhere else? Maybe I experience it somewhere else.Â
I love my friends — I love when they text me about their days, ask me to get lunch, or provide a shoulder to cry on. I love our inside jokes, I love that they ask if I’m okay after missing a call, and I love that they make me feel comfortable.Â
I love my family too. I love the constant phone calls, I love when they ask me about my day, I love when they visit me in Austin, and I love when they take me to Cane’s (I really love this, actually). Most importantly, I love that they listen.Â
Perhaps this connection that I envy has been there all along. Maybe instead of mourning the potential relationships, I could have appreciated the ones I do have- my friends, family, and myself.Â