12 days ago
//// It Ain’t a Book ••• 02-03-19 //// I used to think that maybe one day I would write a book about all my experiences as a single girl, unafraid to use the internet to meet men. I never really got the thought on my own, at least not until everyone told me I should. To be fair, most of my dates were nothing to write home about, so instead I wrote my stories in the form of Facebook statuses. They were stories I could tell well, highlighting the funny inside the faults. Family & friends & strangers rode in with compliments as they read about the woes of my love life. But what is my love life? Is it anything at all? I don’t ask anyone that, not even the internet, though that’s where I keep looking for answers. By definition, a love life concerns a persons relationship with their lovers. Of course not all of the men I met became lovers, but also, of course some of them did. And of course some found the spot in the corner of my heart, gaping & waiting to be filled. Filled with something, someone, anything. Love is such a big, wild thing; the word, the feeling, the act. And a love life, to take something so gigantic & throw in the word life after it?! I guess it only makes sense that I lost myself in it, it is both a force to be reckoned with & a feeling I am rolling into even as I try to roll away. I can’t tell you why I seek validation in the form of love in the shape of men & I can’t pinpoint the moment when I started to. I have never sat down & asked that...not for any sort of avoidance. More so because I don’t think there was ever one exact second when I became the one who should write about all her experiences as a single girl, unafraid to use the internet to meet men. But in this second, these last few seconds, this is a moment. A moment that I have found, by my own definition, that I am bigger & wilder than any love life that makes me wobble, woe after woe. In this defining moment, I’d like to put on every wall that I don’t want to write that book because I’ve already written it. The funny doesn’t fill the void where there’s a big black hole that all the lovers in the whole world could come crawling out of. I wrote that, I wrote that & then the hole closed.