The title of this post is actually kind of ironic, because my love life is anything but hectic. It’s dull. More so, it’s nonexistent.
So many people my age are talking about that one guy or girl they love. Maybe he’s their boyfriend. Maybe she’s their secret crush. But me? I don’t love anybody. And I want to, I really do. I want to love somebody. I want to feel fluttery and free and blissful. That’s the feeling of love, isn’t it? I don’t know. I can’t say. It’s been too long.
I develop fifteen-minute crushes, but they soon fade. They’re only a moment. I want somebody to occupy my thoughts and my dreams, somebody to sing me to sleep and play with my hair and love me. God, I sound like I’m in seventh grade again, but I swear this is different. In seventh grade I was bursting with love and could fall for anybody. Now, I’m devoid of love and wishing I could fall for somebody. I’m not even really desiring the relationship, I guess–I’m just desiring the desire! I want to feel love!
I’ve just become too cold and cynical to be really approachable. Nobody would really want to date someone who glares at couples holding hands in the hallways.
But the thing is, I wouldn’t be one of those people who flaunts my love for all to see. No, I wouldn’t be that person. Things are so much more romantic unseen. I’m a romantic at heart, I really am. And love is always better in the summer. I dream of piling blankets and pillows in the back of a pickup and gazing up at the stars, then gazing into my lover’s eyes just the same. Then he and I could fall asleep in each other’s arms–not to do anything, just to cuddle–and wake up in the morning with golden summer sunlight streaming through the leaves in the trees. We could play tag in the grass and kiss in the pouring rain. We could go out in a canoe by moonlight, and we could sing. What is more romantic than singing? Maybe watching movies together in a candlelit bedroom or slowly falling asleep as he strokes my hair. I want him to value me. I want him to laugh at my puns and understand my ranting. I want him to love me.
See? Here I am, in love with the idea of love, but with nobody in particular. Oh, love. My love is just floating around, waiting to attach itself to somebody.