[insert age] and never been kissed
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. From movies to books, everything I did used to revolve around the idea of love. And one theme that occurred in all these books and movies was that the protagonist found her/his love in their early 20s, if not earlier. So needless to say, I always imagined that my perfect love would occur serendipitously around my magical 20s. Fueled by comparison to friends, family, and strangers, finding love (or being in a relationship) became a big goal in my life. In a sense, love became this big part of my identity even though I had never actually been in love. But being 25 and never having been on a first date, let alone been kissed, this identity slowly starts to engulf you. No matter how strong and independent you are, there’s always that tiny voice in the back of your head that wonders “what’s wrong with me?” “Am I not good enough?” But what’s even harder is letting go of this identity and starting anew.
All my life, I’ve been an overachiever. I’ve gotten good grades, I’ve attended my dream university, and I’ve even been the president of several clubs. But none of this ever mattered to me because I had failed in the one area of my life that mattered to me the most: love. When I graduated high school, it never bothered me that I had never been kissed because I knew that university would bring about a new start in my life. And it did. I met tons of interesting people, made lifelong friends, and I became the person that I had always been too shy to become. But at the end of the day, this was never enough. In society, there’s a constant pressure to live up to the societal norms of dating. There’s always this imaginary timeline of when you should’ve done what. And when you start to deviate from the norm, no matter how much success you have in other parts of your life, people start to pity you. At first people start off by saying that “oh you’ll find him soon, you’re a real catch” but later this turns into “maybe you shouldn’t be so vocal about being a feminist” or “you should try doing your hair this way, it’ll look so much better.” Until you finally start to analyze every little part of yourself and wonder if maybe there is actually something wrong with you. There have been several nights where I have cried myself to sleep begging God (or whoever) to quickly send me the one. But this has only resulted in me waking up the next day ashamed and embarrassed at the my behaviour. And regardless of how ashamed or embarrassed I felt, I would still cling on to that little hope that maybe this time God listened and I’ll meet the one. But after a while, even this hope starts to diminish.
My only solace for this came through google searches of “[insert age] and never been kissed”. Some may call it the positive effects of downward social comparison (for all my fellow psych majors out there) but for me, it’s more about the hope that it restores in me. 2016 has been the worst year of my life, from my mother’s surgery and paralysis to my childhood best friend/crush of 25 years getting married. In these two major events and the other mishaps in between, I began to question and change who I am and that’s scary. It’s scary transitioning from someone who you know so well to someone who you’re just getting familiar with. In this transition, I knew that love could not take the front seat and that it was time for me to lose that part of myself. But love had been the most prominent part of my identity and even though it did more harm than good, it was the most familiar part of me and amidst change, it can be comforting and almost addicting to try and hold on to every little familiar piece of you. For me, there’s always been comfort in knowing that I’m a hopeless romantic that clings on to hope (in love, life, and every scenario) because it allowed me to believe that no matter what happened, everything would turn out fine. I don’t want to lose that part of me because it’s this hope that has gotten me through some major crises. But after mom’s surgery, I noticed this hope slowly diminishing and that’s what hurt me the most. I went from being an optimistic person that sees beauty in things to a cynical person who ignores her surroundings. But reading stories about people who had their first kiss during a time they least expected it and other related stories restored that hope in me. It may sound stupid and silly, but for me, it’s comforting knowing that hope can bring that little spark of magic in the world when we least expect it. This allowed me to look deeper into why I loved “love” so much and realize that it was the beauty of having hope in something that I wanted rather than trying to find a significant other. It allowed me to put love on the back burner and explore new aspects of myself that I had disguised as love. Some may call it growing up, but the best way I can describe it is learning to give myself some space to breathe in all aspects of life. Love was and always will be a part of my identity, but unlike before, this new identity doesn’t engulf me. Instead it’s a tiny part of my identity that doesn’t define me but rather inspires me to have hope that everything will turn out fine. I wish there was a magical ending where I reveal that this has led me to my kiss or some magical epiphany but that’s not the case. I’m still as single as before but the only difference is that I try to enjoy it.
