I was, and I think I still am, that girl -- err, woman. I'm the woman who always fall head-over-heels in love first; the woman who loves more than the other; the woman who has (too much) care running through her veins.
“Kind” is her middle name; she gets hurt, but never learns and continually puts her heart on the line. And, I know I’m not the only woman like this.
I was always in search of someone — who isn’t? We all want to feel like we belong; we all want to have someone to call our companion.
We give our best shots and pour love like water. We give everything we can; we tend to think he'll want more, but are surprised to find our impressions were misguided.
After my first experience with a broken heart, I put my search on hold to focus on other things. I was devastated and thought I was damaged beyond repair, but, as I said, our thoughts are not always right.
I wasn't looking for someone new when he came along. We just clicked.
I liked him, along with his confidence (which bordered on arrogance). I couldn't help but think, maybe, this was the "unexpected" to which people refer. Then, three and a half glasses later, it happened: I got in the cab with him.
It was exciting. The adrenaline rush of doing something for the first time led me not to think about tomorrow.
I didn't think about any repercussions that might arise afterwards; all I thought about was now. In that moment, lust took over my system.
We all have those "just do it" moments.
We get tired of thinking before acting. "F*ck it! I wanna do this," we tell ourselves. That's exactly what happened to me.
There I was, standing face-to-face with the hook-up culture, my first one-night stand in a five-star hotel. Is this supposed to make me feel special?
It was everything I expected it to be; the venue and the view made for a little more than expected. I slept just as soundlessly and comfortably as the man beside me. Though, he fell asleep before I did.
My friends tell tales of being up all night and feeling weird the morning after. They stare into blankness like their minds are detached from their skulls.
As a woman, I expected to feel the same way they did; on the contrary, I felt liberated, like a bird freed from its cage.
It's been a while since someone showered me with sweet words, held me, embraced me. And, like the girl I still am, I easily fell, like an autumn leaf.
The second time around, however, I hit the ground. I am completely aware we were not in a relationship — not even a complicated one. I am also aware "we" does not exist. But, just like that, it was over -- no more communication.
After accepting the fact I would never see this man again, I thought I would go through the same stages I endured when I healed my first broken heart.
I thought I would feel the same degree of emptiness and pain, but this chapter was entirely different.
Instead of feeling broken, I felt the opposite. How would something wrong, temporary and fleeting heal a person? Even I didn’t know that was possible. It healed me in a way that unexpectedly answered my unspoken questions.
The "whys" that lingered in my mind for so long ceased to exist.
“Why does he/she not want to stay connected with me?”
You, along with everyone else, have other things in your life that require 100 percent of you energy, outside of potential relationships or failed ones.
Your dreams and responsibilities, and those of others, are so big, you cannot afford a long-term heartbreak.
You just got yourself back together; don't be in a hurry to fall down again anytime soon.
Heartbreak is like a very expensive material item; it’s one of those beautifully-displayed gems on Fifth Avenue. You happen upon it; you fall in love with it. You want to buy it, but you can’t afford it. You have to work your ass off first.
“Why is he not The One? I want him to be The One.”
You should have established some idea of what you want in a person -- beyond looks, education, career or sex -- in order to know exactly what will work for you. The way someone cares for you, nourishes and places importance and value on you should matter, as well.
This guy made my subconscious voice louder in my mind than ever before, which made me realize two things: 1) Love and lust will never come in the same form; they are a team, but one of them comes knocking at your door before the other one arrives. 2) The famous cliché, “[Love] will happen when you least expect it,” is true; many people told me before, but I never believed it until now.
We unexpectedly meet people all of the time; we just can’t tell who is in it for a long haul.
Though it healed me, I would be lying if I said my one-night stand didn’t break me in some way.
He did, but it’s not the kind of break that necessitates you to pick up the pieces and stitch them back together, one by one. It’s more like a dent in a car that can be easily fixed.
There were times when I searched him on Google and visited his social media profiles just to check up on what he did and is currently doing.
I browsed from one photo to another, then eventually stopped, knowing I'm just confused between wanting to love someone and "I slept with him so I should make him my boyfriend." It's my mind talking more than my heart.
He healed me more than he broke me. Meeting him (and sleeping with him) made me set the line between what I want and what I don't want.
They say there are two sides in this life: the safe but boring side, and the fun but dangerous side. I've decided to live on the fun but dangerous and daring side, which comes with saying "yes" to the things I said "no" to before.
But, we shouldn't say "yes" just to show we're part of the crowd. Every yes should mean we, finally, are ready to experience certain things. We're brave enough to give a resounding "yes" It should be for ourselves, not for an audience.
I didn't regret my "yes" to sleep with someone I barely knew. But, I did learn I shouldn't pour love like water.
We have so much love to give, but even though we're overflowing with it, we should use it like a bottle of wine: Let's pour (and drink) moderately.