Untitled

Your most clandestine depths yearn for it to happen, yet you strongly doubt that you’ll fall in love again. Someday, over the brim of your java cup, you’ll meet someone who catches your eye. The javas will turn into dinners, the dinners will turn into nights, the nights will be weekends, and next thing you know you’ve relinquished all images of yourself at 50 living with five cats, two turtles, and your dog Angus. But this is not the first time you’ve fallen in love, and as I’ve been told, this time is different. This is how the next time will be different for me.

The next time I fall in love, I won’t be as trusting. It’s not because you’re not trustworthy and it’s not because I don’t want to be. It’s because the world has shown me that it’s quite possible to pour all of your hopes and dreams into one ambition and still have it fail, even if your goal was something as “simple” as being in love. For the record, I don’t have trust issues. It’s just that I won’t be leaping so blindly into a clouded pool of fables, not knowing the possibility of hitting rock bottom before finding my way back up for air.

The next time I fall in love I’ll be smarter and I’ll do it better.  If it’s anything akin to riding a bicycle, you never really forget how to do it, and practice only makes it better.  I’m not an idiot: I’ll recognize my flaws and work hard at them.  I’ll realize that relationships aren’t some cookie-cutter puzzle that someday clicks into place - they take real dedication, and even more real pain.  Pain that I won’t hold against you for growing us closer and stronger.

The next time I fall in love, I’ll cut my losses sooner if I see things aren’t working out or that you aren’t the right person for me.  It’s not that you aren’t worth the effort or my time - it’s just that I’ve been educated on the workings of relationships and can spot a mistaker sooner rather than too-late.  Forgive me for erring on the side of cautiousness; I’ve paid my fair share of wallowing in a myopic mood for an entirely unhealthy length of time.  

The next time I fall in love, you’ll have hard work to do.  It’s not because I mean to, but you’ll be measured against a yard-stick against which it’s easily possible to fall short.  Yes, that’s right, you’ll get compared.  I’m not some untainted tabula rasa against which you can scramble your insignia on before things go awry.  But trust me, I want you to.  I want you to to jar me and teach me the ability to love multiple people and different personalities.  I want you to cast a net of amnesia and use it to pull me up from the nostalgic depths of college.

And the next time I fall in love, I’ll be ready.  I’ll be ready because I’ve been given the greatest gift of all - the gift of time, time by myself, in which I’ve had the opportunities to grow and learn about who I am/what I want/what I want to become.  These gifts of strength I will be able to pass on to you as I mature and grow into myself as I exit leechery (lol, the dictionary tried to correct this to lechery.  That works too?) and become a young adult that has much to offer the world, single or not.