I've had a lot, but loved none
Romantic relationships. One of the many things I'm good at starting but suck at keeping.
I was a pa-cool party girl back in college. I dated exclusively and I also dated simultaneously, but in both circumstances, one thing's the same. As soon as feelings emerge from the other and things get serious, I put an end to the whole thing. Oh you're starting to develop serious feelings for me? Sorry dude, you just ruined what we have—or don't have (LOL).
From being a fat high-schooler who was told countless of times by teenage boys that they'd only ask me out if I lost weight, I guess I wanted to seek revenge after shedding 40 pounds from anorexia-bulimia. After all, I didn't want my efforts going to waste. The pent up hurts from my bruised self-esteem and the superficiality of young guys were two things I twisted to serve as my motivation. I was skinny, and all of a sudden guys were giving me attention. I liked it—and I saw it as an opportunity to be qualified in the messy game of teenage dating. I finally had my chance, and I'm playing to win.
I shouldn't have generalized that all guys are shallow assholes, but I did. Every guy that showed interest became just another conquest for my ego, desperate to be puffed up at the expense of another. There were a few times that legitimately nice guys came my way, but I was quick to assume that they probably just liked me for my looks, hence me keeping the interaction at a certain depth, or rather, shallowness. I showed them I was down for anything, that I was the girl you'd have a "good time" with. I partied with guys and fooled around with them, all while sticking to my self-imposed rule of anything but sex. I was fooling myself into (self) righteousness by making sex a privilege I could give only to someone I truly loved. At least I'm not hooking up, I'm just almost hooking up.
I dated around for the thrill of it—the initial stage when everything about the new infatuation is so electrifying that it also made me feel new. The intense desire, the can't-eat-can't-sleep-can't-stop-thinking-about season. But the minute the guy confesses some form of stronger desire to be with me beyond drinking sessions and making out, I'd freak out, pull away, and go on my own way.
Yikes. I'll face it. Even in dating and relationships, I was just chasing the highs.
I can't remember how many people I've dated when I was in college. They're too many to count. I do remember that I've fooled around with most of them, if not all, while still in the "getting-to-know" stage (mostly because I was also always drunk or on something). I guess my definition of dating back then was really just having someone to make out and do physical stuff with.
I quit dating for awhile when I embarked on some soul searching mid-college, but it didn't last long. The boredom of singlehood hit me, and I took it as a sign to dive back into the dating pool, with getting into a serious relationship as the ultimate goal.
My first 2 relationships were with girls. I jumped right in the first one when I was 19, with the sole reason of being sick and tired from being "single" since birth (at least, technically). I thought it was about damn time I leveled up from serial dating to sticking it out with just one. It didn't matter whether it was with a boy or a girl; whoever's there, I'm willing to try. I didn't mind. I just wanted to be in a relationship.
Just like in my dating life, physical connection became the foundation of my "serious" relationships. Sure, there's still some level of compatibility there, but if I'm gonna assess and really take a long hard look at what my relationships were about, it's only one thing and one thing alone: sex.
My third and last relationship proved this, as my first official boyfriend started out as nothing more than a casual hookup. We were "friends with benefits" (an obvious misnomer, because real friends don't use each other for sex), and since we had physical chemistry, I decided to stick it out with him. It was during a season of taking drugs and hooking up with different men, when I decided maybe it's about time for me to slow down. My "number" was getting too high to be counted with both hands in a very short span of time, so I decided to exchange the weekly rendezvous in motel rooms or bachelor pads with a constant place to go home to. I guess I also just wanted all those nights with strangers to account for something—at least screwing around got me my first boyfriend.
Even back when I was just exclusively dating, long before being officially coupled up with any of my exes, physical intimacy was already present in the early stage of my relationships. It may not have been the act of sex itself, but everything intimacy-related still happened too fast too soon. Perhaps I just really wanted to have sex, and I used being with someone as a means to conceal my desires. I have fooled myself that I was ready to love, when all I was ready for was to feed my lusts.
If I'm going to be honest with myself, it's also the only thing that kept me staying in all of my relationships. If any of my exes told me that they wanted to stop having sex with me for whatever reason, I would have dropped them and the so-called "relationship". I would have walked away in a heartbeat with no regrets, because I knew no other way in expressing and receiving feigned love other than sex.
Whoever said that lust is only a guy-issue couldn't be any more wrong.
The hard truth I live with is this: I jumped right in all of my relationships even if I knew none of it was bound to last right from the beginning. I knew from the start they were all going to be future exes.
I'm 25 now, and I'm not scared to admit that I know nothing about building a genuine relationship—one that's founded on friendship, unconditional love, and trust. But I am hoping to change that.
I am slowly realizing that passion is not the most important thing when it comes to healthy relationships. In my experience, too much of it can be intoxicating for both parties too. Passion can be so consuming, overwhelming, and addictive, that once it settles down after the honeymoon stage, the couple is forced to face the reality that there is nothing else left to build the relationship on. As soon as it dies, so does the relationship. It's not the sturdy, branched out roots that will keep the love unshakeable when storms pass. Passion is essential, but it comes and it goes. I'm surprised that I'm saying this, but it shouldn't be at the top of the list of what holds and keeps a man and a woman together—at least for me.
It's not gonna be easy as I face certain demons, but from here on out, I'd like to sow thoughts, words, and actions in my dating life that will reap a strong and beautiful relationship someday. One that does not use sex as some sort of cheap and instant bond to keep things from falling apart. One where the man's character is what keeps me reeled in. One where the two of us are allies, not enemies. One where there is solid partnership towards bettering ourselves and helping the other. One that is complementing, not self-seeking.
I may have dated a lot and been with a few, but the truth is, I haven't loved. At least not the way I should have to build something real I can consider committing to, for life. It's a sad thing to admit, but it is what it is. In all my three failed relationships, all I did was take what I could get. Sure, I gave some too, but only so I could keep on taking.
That is not the kind of future love I want for myself. Who I was in the past isn't the kind of woman I'd want to get stuck being today. I am optimistic for a different future romantically, one that will mirror out the Love that God embodies.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 perfectly captures the kind of love I long to give and have someday.
From being a fat high-schooler who was told countless of times by teenage boys that they'd only ask me out if I lost weight, I guess I wanted to seek revenge after shedding 40 pounds from anorexia-bulimia. After all, I didn't want my efforts going to waste. The pent up hurts from my bruised self-esteem and the superficiality of young guys were two things I twisted to serve as my motivation. I was skinny, and all of a sudden guys were giving me attention. I liked it—and I saw it as an opportunity to be qualified in the messy game of teenage dating. I finally had my chance, and I'm playing to win.
I shouldn't have generalized that all guys are shallow assholes, but I did. Every guy that showed interest became just another conquest for my ego, desperate to be puffed up at the expense of another. There were a few times that legitimately nice guys came my way, but I was quick to assume that they probably just liked me for my looks, hence me keeping the interaction at a certain depth, or rather, shallowness. I showed them I was down for anything, that I was the girl you'd have a "good time" with. I partied with guys and fooled around with them, all while sticking to my self-imposed rule of anything but sex. I was fooling myself into (self) righteousness by making sex a privilege I could give only to someone I truly loved. At least I'm not hooking up, I'm just almost hooking up.
I dated around for the thrill of it—the initial stage when everything about the new infatuation is so electrifying that it also made me feel new. The intense desire, the can't-eat-can't-sleep-can't-stop-thinking-about season. But the minute the guy confesses some form of stronger desire to be with me beyond drinking sessions and making out, I'd freak out, pull away, and go on my own way.
Yikes. I'll face it. Even in dating and relationships, I was just chasing the highs.
I can't remember how many people I've dated when I was in college. They're too many to count. I do remember that I've fooled around with most of them, if not all, while still in the "getting-to-know" stage (mostly because I was also always drunk or on something). I guess my definition of dating back then was really just having someone to make out and do physical stuff with.
I quit dating for awhile when I embarked on some soul searching mid-college, but it didn't last long. The boredom of singlehood hit me, and I took it as a sign to dive back into the dating pool, with getting into a serious relationship as the ultimate goal.
My first 2 relationships were with girls. I jumped right in the first one when I was 19, with the sole reason of being sick and tired from being "single" since birth (at least, technically). I thought it was about damn time I leveled up from serial dating to sticking it out with just one. It didn't matter whether it was with a boy or a girl; whoever's there, I'm willing to try. I didn't mind. I just wanted to be in a relationship.
Just like in my dating life, physical connection became the foundation of my "serious" relationships. Sure, there's still some level of compatibility there, but if I'm gonna assess and really take a long hard look at what my relationships were about, it's only one thing and one thing alone: sex.
My third and last relationship proved this, as my first official boyfriend started out as nothing more than a casual hookup. We were "friends with benefits" (an obvious misnomer, because real friends don't use each other for sex), and since we had physical chemistry, I decided to stick it out with him. It was during a season of taking drugs and hooking up with different men, when I decided maybe it's about time for me to slow down. My "number" was getting too high to be counted with both hands in a very short span of time, so I decided to exchange the weekly rendezvous in motel rooms or bachelor pads with a constant place to go home to. I guess I also just wanted all those nights with strangers to account for something—at least screwing around got me my first boyfriend.
Even back when I was just exclusively dating, long before being officially coupled up with any of my exes, physical intimacy was already present in the early stage of my relationships. It may not have been the act of sex itself, but everything intimacy-related still happened too fast too soon. Perhaps I just really wanted to have sex, and I used being with someone as a means to conceal my desires. I have fooled myself that I was ready to love, when all I was ready for was to feed my lusts.
If I'm going to be honest with myself, it's also the only thing that kept me staying in all of my relationships. If any of my exes told me that they wanted to stop having sex with me for whatever reason, I would have dropped them and the so-called "relationship". I would have walked away in a heartbeat with no regrets, because I knew no other way in expressing and receiving feigned love other than sex.
Whoever said that lust is only a guy-issue couldn't be any more wrong.
The hard truth I live with is this: I jumped right in all of my relationships even if I knew none of it was bound to last right from the beginning. I knew from the start they were all going to be future exes.
I'm 25 now, and I'm not scared to admit that I know nothing about building a genuine relationship—one that's founded on friendship, unconditional love, and trust. But I am hoping to change that.
I am slowly realizing that passion is not the most important thing when it comes to healthy relationships. In my experience, too much of it can be intoxicating for both parties too. Passion can be so consuming, overwhelming, and addictive, that once it settles down after the honeymoon stage, the couple is forced to face the reality that there is nothing else left to build the relationship on. As soon as it dies, so does the relationship. It's not the sturdy, branched out roots that will keep the love unshakeable when storms pass. Passion is essential, but it comes and it goes. I'm surprised that I'm saying this, but it shouldn't be at the top of the list of what holds and keeps a man and a woman together—at least for me.
It's not gonna be easy as I face certain demons, but from here on out, I'd like to sow thoughts, words, and actions in my dating life that will reap a strong and beautiful relationship someday. One that does not use sex as some sort of cheap and instant bond to keep things from falling apart. One where the man's character is what keeps me reeled in. One where the two of us are allies, not enemies. One where there is solid partnership towards bettering ourselves and helping the other. One that is complementing, not self-seeking.
Sex has a way of becoming an "apology" after a fight, but the fight doesn't get resolved. Sex has a way of looking like "communication," but no ideas or thoughts or dreams are exchanged. Sex has a way of looking like "true love," but it's meant as a gift of a committed covenant and not as a replacement for a promised union.
—J.S. Park
I may have dated a lot and been with a few, but the truth is, I haven't loved. At least not the way I should have to build something real I can consider committing to, for life. It's a sad thing to admit, but it is what it is. In all my three failed relationships, all I did was take what I could get. Sure, I gave some too, but only so I could keep on taking.
That is not the kind of future love I want for myself. Who I was in the past isn't the kind of woman I'd want to get stuck being today. I am optimistic for a different future romantically, one that will mirror out the Love that God embodies.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 perfectly captures the kind of love I long to give and have someday.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
They say insanity is doing the same things over and over and over again, while expecting a different result. The crazy, messy kind of love might be what's glorified out there, but it can also be a source of a lot of unnecessary baggage and wounds. The next time I start falling in love, I'm keeping my head and my heart in check. I don't care how slow or careful I go, if that's gonna make me keep my sanity. Sex is too powerful; it ties souls together as one—and I know my mind can get wrapped around it when I get it. It is a bond so strong, it can make you feel connected to the other person even if there is really nothing there. It can cloud judgement. It has the capacity to make you stay in a relationship despite the red flags (and worse, even abuse).
I am basking in my singlehood, not forcing or rushing to be in a relationship, as I already know full well where that will take me. For things to end differently and beautifully, I need to be friends with my future partner first, and not be misled by the highs and "emotions" that sex can instantly give. I'd like to be sure about choosing who I end up with because I know his mind, heart, and soul—not just his body.
My next relationship is gonna be with my best friend. Someone who plunges deep to discover the well of my dreams and aspirations. Someone who understands that real intimacy is more than tearing each other's clothes off; but about courageously taking away the masks of pretense to show every ugly and messy part of who they are and still fearlessly hope to be accepted and the loved the same.
I can't wait to be with that man who will spark a strong desire in me to make things right.
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