I haven't had much luck with girlfriend figures. Not Julia, not Erika, not Elisha, not Hayley. They hadn't dispensed a whole lot of romantic wisdom to me over the years. Whatever affection and ambition and personal histories they had, they hadn't been eager to share it with me. Maybe they didn't want to be my girlfriend figures. Maybe I haven't made an especially appealing boyfriend figure.
I don't know what I'm gonna do now. This is the fourth time I've had my heart broken, the fourth time I've willingly given my heart to prospective lovers, only to be refused. And for what? What is the meaning of all my suffering, my continual strife? I see no end to my struggle, this lasting pain of always being passed over, of never being good enough for someone. There are times when I wish I could be deserving of love, to be worthy of that kind of reliable, protective, compassionate love, but I just feel that all I'm getting is a dysfunctional, temperamental, and insecure kind of love. The kind of love that lies at the mercy and the condition of the one giving it. Wishing for gold, but getting pyrite in return. Therein lies my great frustration and resentment in romance. My God, I'm beyond tired and exhausted of surviving. For once in my life, I wanna live. I wanna thrive. I wanna achieve big things in life and celebrate them, to have that kind of lasting success I can look back and be proud of. Most of all, I just want a loving, determined, empathetic woman I can count on who is driven and motivated and loyal beyond doubt to hold my hand and stand by me through thick and thin. But deep down, I have a nagging question that asks if these are principles I can afford to hold long and hard onto, or if I might have to sacrifice them upon the altar of pragmatism.
If I'm honest, I'm terrified at the thought of having no one in my life to love and be loved by. Is the permanent revolving door of lovers the price I must pay for accepting and embracing change? Am I fated to spend the rest of my life alone, without a girlfriend and a partner to call my own and care for me? Will I be okay with that? Can I manage it if it becomes reality? And will I be able to withstand the strains and stresses of a lifetime of being romantically homeless? These questions keep me up at night sometimes. I don't want to be in that place, but I have to prepare for it regardless. That's how bad it's been for me. As much as I hate these thoughts, I must be ready for them. If being a lifelong bachelor is the price I must pay to realise my dreams and goals, then I'll make the sacrifice. I just wish there's another way, a route I can take that allows me love and intimacy while achieving my personal goals. I'm tired of always being lonely and reluctantly single.