I’m a perfectionist. It’s a huge problem for me.
I’ve had my heart broken before. Who hasn’t? But when I look back on it objectively, I’m responsible most of the time.
Two and a half years ago, I fell madly in love with a man that to this day I believe was perfect for me. We had our differences. Big differences that would crush any other relationship. We didn’t give a crap. We didn’t play the game – we won it from the start. We had everything. Two years into it, I was hopelessly unhappy and I had no idea why. I started to rationalize it – maybe he could have communicated better, maybe he could have accepted my beliefs (or lack thereof) a little more. But maybe, just maybe, I was selling myself out and I resented him for it. I was doing what I thought I had to do, without considering that he would have loved me either way.
I took the easy way and it bit me in the ass.
For the first week after we broke up, I felt relieved, like I could finally be myself.
A few months after that, I realized I was back in the game. And the game is all about holding yourself back so you don’t scare anyone off. Letting yourself show a little at a time, instead of all at once. I’m bad at that. I want someone to take me as I am, immediately. They’d better love me right now while I’m fat and love me more when I’m fit and love me even more when I grow old and get fat again. I won’t put on make-up for a date. I won’t pretend I’m not a huge nerd. I won’t hide my sexual preferences. I am me.
And I’m also apparently deathly afraid of pursuing any small feeling I might have. Everything passes.
And so it’s a relief that I have a crush on someone right now, because I am feeling something. It’s a huge change for me. Means that at last, I am moving on. So I don’t even care whether or not if they reciprocate. Because I am back in the game.
Besides, if I chase them, I might fall for them. And that is the terrifying part.
