A long time ago, when I was twelve, I dreamed about falling in love. Because I was so young, I didn’t fully understand what it meant to be in love, let alone have a boyfriend, but I longed for one just the same. Creating an expectation of what an ideal boyfriend was, I found myself with some expectations that left the boys in my class falling short. Doing so didn’t stop me from building crushes on a select few over the years, but the feelings died within a year or so without anyone returning my feelings.
Eventually I found someone in college who found me pretty enough to date. First it was J. who only lasted three weeks before he went back to the girl he dated before me. Groaning with heartbreak, I fell into the arms of A., with whom I felt certain would become my first real boyfriend. He and I saw each other practically every day for a month and a half and in July I went up to visit with him and his family. Instead of the relationship I was hoping for, he turned me down a couple weeks later and told me I’d find someone a hundred times better than him. Jaded by this turn of events, I decided to remain single as I focused on school and myself.
Knowing that the next person I dated would be the last person I ever dated regardless of what the outcome was, I made sure to guard my heart and let people know that I wanted to be single. Later, I would come to regret that decision when I met a guy from England. Nothing happened between us except for a few short dates and a lot of frustration. Only when he broke up with me did I realize what it meant to look down the road being single forever. Perhaps you’ll find someone someday, he said, a person who will find a spark with me and be with me forever.
Quitting had already soaked down deep in my heart, hardening my soul against the world of love and romance. Ripping out my heart and tearing it into a million little pieces for another man who may or may not last a few dates wasn’t something I was willing to take a chance on. Sadly, I did go on a few dates: one became a friend (as much as you can call a friend who cancels your plans constantly at the last minute only to ignore you for a year after he found a girl of interest) and the second one only lasted one date without much expectation of any kind. Thanks to these guys, I’m further convinced that I will never fall in love, nor will I ever know what it’s like to have a boyfriend.
Until I die, I will keep my convictions to remain single. Voices of protest follow me wherever I go, no matter how hard I try to convince them that what I speak is true. “We know you’ll find someone someday, even if you don’t think you will right now,” they insist. “X number of guys are needed to be dated before you’ll run into the man who was made for you.”
You don’t know me, nor do you know my experiences or my thoughts that lead me to my decision to remain single, so don’t judge my choices on how to live my life. Zero people have even tried to understand me from my point of view or respect my decisions for my romantic life; maybe it’s time to keep these thoughts to myself until the end.
This short memoir was inspired by Daily Prompt: A to Z: Create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.