Once upon a time

As it happens, several years I was in love with someone (this is not to say that I haven't been in love since then, but I'll admit it hasn't happened frequently). I was so in love with this man that I was convinced that he was "the one", the love of my life. I just knew that, if only fortune would smile upon me, we would spend the rest of our lives together. The problem was (and you know there had to be a problem) he didn't feel the same. He loved me, but he wasn't in love with me ... and it showed. I managed to avoid the truth and shake off the reality of our relationship for a long time. Finally (and I mean after a few years) I forced myself to confront the blatant verity of what was happening with us and I didn't like what I saw. Not only was he never going to love me the way I loved him, I didn't like the person that I was while waiting for him. I wanted to slap myself awake and stop acting like a pathetic little girl craving love. So, I ended it and have never spoken to him again. [Wow, that come out a lot harsher than I meant it to. Actually it was positive and life affirming, not pissy or hostile, like I made it sound.]

Since that time I have had a really difficult time lying to myself. If I even I attempt to fool myself into thinking that situations are different than they actually are, it doesn't work. I am (sometimes brutally) honest with myself and I don't know how to be otherwise. I think it's more than a byproduct of this one relationship, it was the culmination of a lifetime of misleading and hurtful occurrences. That's not supposed to sound horrible, it's not a movie of the week. My childhood was decent, all things considered. But there was enough deception and subterfuge that as an adult I choose not to live that way and to be as forthcoming as possible, especially with myself. And most of the time, I am happy with how that goes for me. But, some days I wish that I had the gift of denial or artifice so that I could be happy with things (and people) that aren't right for me. That way when I lament my solitude, I could have all sorts of excuses on which to blame it.

But the plain truth of the matter is, I am aware of a lot of reasons that I am single. I know what I could do to change that, and once again my on-the-level nature prevents me from pretending that it's all someone else's fault. My candor forces me to admit that I just don't want to make those changes. I'm either too lazy, too scared or too set in my ways to bother. And that's a shame. I have an awful lot of love to give and I believe that I have a lot to offer the right man. But, I guess I don't really believe that I will find him, because I haven't done a whole helluva lot to get myself together like that. And that just, is what it is.