I think a lot about love. I think it might be one of the topics I think about the most. I used to get really embarrassed about that. I used to think that the best attitude was to banish the word from my mind so that I could attract love when I “least expected it.” That’s what all my other friends were doing, and they had success. The problem was, I was always expecting it, and I’m not any of my other friends.Â
I had this belief that I had to act a certain way, be a certain way, or feel a certain way to be ready for the sweeping romance that would knock me off my feet. I had the prescription for romance written out for me through the hundreds of romance novels I’d been fed my entire life. I had to be busy, inattentive, and uncaring for love to fall right into my lap.
Wrong. So very wrong.Â
I went through much of my late teens and early twenties with this mentality, waiting for someone to come along and teach me what love felt like. In that waiting, I realized something that has forever altered my perception of what “romance” looks like.Â
I simply took stock of the world around me. There is already so much love in my life. Just because there is no great romantic love that feels like an Ali Hazelwood novel doesn’t mean love is absent. Love is found in the laughter of my best friends and in the kindness and comfort of my roommates on a Sunday morning. Love is in the small remembrances of personal details by the people I hold closest.
What I did not realize about my friends, who seemed unexpectant or uncaring, was that they were already so completely fulfilled by the other great loves of their lives. They were not waiting for something so singular to fall in their laps. It’s through observing them and practicing their approach that I’ve found true romance.
I am so unbelievably content with a funny story about a failed situationship or the passing glances exchanged between me and the guy at the bar I was too nervous to talk to. The spontaneity of the unknown breeds excitement — the kind that a girl in her twenties will talk about forever. If romance books have taught me anything, there’s love within those interactions as well. At the end of the day, I’m 22 years old. I haven’t lived enough life to even understand what I want for the rest of it, so why think about it?Â
I love the part of me that looks for love everywhere. It’s beautiful to see life with golden flecks of unwavering optimism. I’ll always hold onto that part of me, but it no longer consumes my being. So, if you’re feeling like this shoe fits you too, take stock of the love that’s already around you and reframe your romance.