Refill

I’ve forgotten that people fall in love.

That certain individuals have the ability to immediately click. That sparks fly. That chemistry can be undeniable. That good things happen.

I don’t possess a typical romantic view when it comes to relationships and love. My ideal situation involves talking shit to your face, cracking jokes naked and avoiding a majority of what is considered corny behavior. It’s not conventional, but it works for me. Whatever limited optimism I had on meeting anyone has gone into hibernation mode. On second thought, it’s almost reversed to complete pessimism.

Plenty of good things happen to me, but not when it comes to my love life. I’ve come to accept this. It’s cool, guys. it’s fine.

No actually, it fucking sucks.

I’ve been running on empty, on fumes. I can’t even daydream these days, everything sounds impossible to me. You know what I fantasize about? Getting breakfast on a Sunday with a worthy man. Swear to God. Simple as that. 

I went from married woman to a jaded single lady thrown into a world of hook-up culture. Love is limited. Everyone tells me I’m a catch, truth is no one wants to catch feelings. It’s tough out here.

So I’ve slowly given up…

Thankfully I was given this to read yesterday. It’s a love story of one of my bosses, who is a great dude. It’s simple, there aren’t any Nicolas Sparks type of conflicts or climaxes, well except for the fact that his lady at the time (now wife) was only in Germany for about six weeks. If anything I appreciated the simplicity, the meet-cute, the coincidences and everything that led up to him getting her name tatted on his neck. #tattmynameonyousoiknowitsreal That last part isn’t included, but I noticed he had his wife’s name tattooed on him as soon as I started the job. “Yo, this dude is SERIOUS about his woman.”

I desperately needed the reminder. I just refilled on some semblance of hope, dear God—make it last. I’d like to start daydreaming about getting lunch and dinner too. Just sayin.