i’ve been thinking lately that maybe i am truly unlovable.
no, seriously.
if you know me, you’ll know this is a conversation i bring up almost quarterly: the constant worry about whether or not i’m worthy of being loved by someone else. it’s been a consistent, perpetual thought that plagues my every waking moment despite all my efforts of distraction and redirection.
the feeling typically comes on whenever it so pleases. i could be going about my day, watching a silly youtube video, or cooking dinner—then suddenly, it’s there. it’s almost as if it waits for me; like a snake in the grass or the alligator in a bog.
well, this time, it’s a stupid little teen show—The Summer I Turned Pretty.
my best friend and i were in stitches in last week’s episode in which one of the main love interests, Conrad, displays very strong feelings of love and passion for the female lead, Belly, through acts of service despite her present engagement to his younger brother. though, we all know he’ll be endgame, so that detail hardly matters.
still, deep inside me, the realization hit: no one will ever love me the way this fictional man loves this fictional girl…
as if it weren’t already evident by the fact that i’m 28 with two and a half* relationships under my belt, and not once has anyone ever been in love with me.
(*don’t ask)
i’ve always been confused by the stark difference between love and in love. there is a difference, but no one seems to be able to accurately explain what that difference is. there are no words in any human language that can possibly be strung together to fully convey what it means to be in love with someone. something so passionate and visceral could never possibly be quantified.
sure, people have loved me—friends, family, maybe even one of my exes at some point in time.
but no one has ever been in love with me, and i doubt anyone ever will be.
i get concerned with this thought process sometimes because i am currently in a relationship and it’s been going pretty damn well, but this sneaking suspicion i feel won’t seem to dissipate, leaving me feeling insecure and disappointed.
the likelihood of me ending up alone in the end is always higher than the possibility i might be with someone who will finally fall in love with me, and that’s because i am unlovable.
not unlovable in a sense that the people around me can’t find it in themselves to care for me or appreciate who i am, but rather, unlovable in a sense that there is no one on this earth who would possibly possess a willingness to grow for me.
that’s what i feel makes the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. loving someone is the acceptance of that person within themselves, but under the unspoken condition that you are you and i am me, and never may the two meet.
don’t get me wrong: i don’t believe being in love with someone means relinquishing your individuality, but there is an understanding that to be with that person, you need to be willing to adapt and compromise in a way you wouldn’t with someone you love.
it’s someone who chooses to not only acknowledge you, but grow into you. if you feel this hesitation to surrender, perhaps you’re not in love—and unfortunately, in this day and age, true love is way harder to come by than we think.
i feel this is because everyone is terrified of being absorbed in the ways we’re warned about. bad actors who are incapable of being vulnerable in return and need absolute control over others, and codependency which is often confused for true romantic love.
really, it’s hard to come across true love because no one seems to be able to identify when they really feel it. which begs the question: if true love is so elusive, doesn’t that mean the common love we possess for each other is good enough?
i think it should be, and i’m sure many people believe it is, but my heart seems to disagree.
there is no doubt that the ultimate love one could have is the love they have for themselves—but how wonderful would it be to know someone else feels the same about you?
i am willing to grow into myself and become the best version of me, all in the effort of supporting myself and making sure i am taken care of. and i’ve felt that way for someone else before as well, even if it was brief because i wasn’t encouraged to remain vulnerable with them.
it’s such a purifying thing—so full of innocence and good intention…
but also, an impossibility when it comes to me.
i wish i could explain it in a way others will understand, the question being: how is it that i am so worthy of my own love, yet no one else could ever find it in themselves to do the same?
it seems i’ve been born with the ability to feel true love for others, but never receive it myself. only i—with this inherent ability—have the capacity to give it to myself as it stands.
there are definitely other true lovers out there, but meeting one of them who somehow find themselves mutually attracted to me has become unfeasible. all the conditions have to line up, and with such specifics, the conditions will likely never align.
i’m a difficult person. i’m moody. i’m loud. i have a short fuse. i’m sensitive, and i cry too much. i don’t like change. i have a specific way of doing things, and it makes me anxious to do them any other way. i’m fearful. i’m indecisive. i get overwhelmed easily, and it doesn’t take much to stress me out. i’m messy. i’m pathetic. i can be miserable, and when i’m not miserable, i’m too energetic. i talk too much. i don’t go out enough. i have an ugly body. i’m bad at sex. i can’t tongue kiss. i’m needy, and i’m clingy, and i’m overbearing.
but i can love these things about myself, and not just because i have no other choice. i can love these things about myself because i am willing to grow and adjust to make my flaws tolerable. i can compromise with myself. i can make room for myself. i can acknowledge myself as i am, and adapt to meet myself halfway.
and it all comes from the willingness to do so.
there is no one else in this world who could possibly take all of that. perhaps they can love me for who i am with that unspoken barrier between me and their heart, but they could never possibly desire to adapt in ways that’ll compliment what i am. they could never find it in themselves to choose me every time above all other prospects.
it’s heartbreaking.
though i am prepared to end up alone at any point in time, and i am more than capable of taking care of myself, the deep desire to be loved in that very specific way will never go away. my imagination is both my greatest strength and my worst trait.
i can write some of the best love stories, but those all come from romantic fantasies i wish i could experience myself. take the excerpt below from one of my fanfics (names redacted for copyright purposes):
No, what had really thickened his veins with arousal was the intimacy between them, simmering his blood until it flooded his chest with warmth. The way U****** exposed herself to him with such ease, implicitly trusting him not to do anything unbecoming, even despite their history together. She laid herself bare in her most primal state, making herself available to his touch; vulnerable to the ministrations of his fervid fingers and the penetrative weight of his gaze.
In return, S***** worshipped her the way a wretch would a deity, praying for salvation.
Eventually, the time came to wash her face. S***** lifted his tender hands to her cheeks and gingerly rubbed his thumbs over her skin, noticing the way her honeyed eyes fluttered to a close as he wiped her face clean. It didn’t take long to do so, but he chose to linger anyway. He used the opportunity to trace her features the way he once did years ago, wondering if his greedy fingertips still remembered the slope of her nose and the curve of her cupid’s bow. Her muscles were completely relaxed, shallow breaths ghosting the skin of his hands as he showered her in an ardent caress. God, you’re so beautiful…
perhaps it’s because i’ve set up unrealistic expectations, but even still, nobody could ever feel this passionately about me. you could argue that nobody could ever feel this way about anyone, but if i can dream up and write down yearning like this, it must be possible…
if it’s possible within me, it must be possible within others.
it just occurred to me, actually, that my ability to conjure up such depictions of yearning is further evidence that i am the one who is primarily capable of bestowing true love upon others. it’s just unfortunate that i was born incapable of receiving it from anyone else.
in a perfect world, someone out there yearns for me—most ardently, as masterfully put by Pride & Prejudice‘s Mr. Darcy. if only i were a fictional character, then i might have a chance.
but this is the real world, and i am, unfortunately, also very real.
and really, the most realistic thing for me to do is accept that i am meant for no one but me. nobody is coming to save me, and nobody intends on holding me within their heart, so i need to continue to hold myself as closely and as dearly as possible.
i’m just not the kind of person someone can fall in love with, and that’s okay.
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