I happen to be unlucky in love. I know that I’m not the only one, but I find myself quoting Charlotte from Sex and the City “I’ve been dating since I was 15. I’m exhausted! Where is he?’ I thought I found him, the one. You know, the person that you see yourself with until the end of time. The one you picture being the father of your children. The soul that you would wake up next to every morning and go to sleep with every night. I thought I finally had that-I swear I had that. In my naive rose-colored glasses, I saw the whole world with him in one state. I believed that I could travel through the depths of time with him, despite the miles in between us. I believed and put my whole trust in a person who wasn’t me.
I find myself struggling between my feminism and my need for true love. I find myself falling apart at the hands of a man, while I preach my independency. I find myself craving the imperfect picture of marriage, while realizing that marriage rarely works and is a complete social construction. I battle in between these irrational and rational thoughts, losing myself completely, unaware of who I really am and what I really want. Could it be that one person had the power to open the doors to this war? With this break of trust I battle with more than just the loss of a partner, I battle with losing a part of me. Slowly, I feel like I am losing the idea that I was feminist enough to be strong and independent.
This mind just doesn’t feel strong or independent anymore. It’s filled with thunderstorms of disillusionment and betrayal. Yet it has such a strong yearning to have what it had back: the morning texts, goodnight calls, bus rides across the state, the deeply craved touch, the belief that for once in its life it had found the one that fairy tales had promised. Mostly, it’s filled with the guilt and hypocrisy because it’s found out, that maybe it’s not as feminist as it thought it was.