i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us. how we met and the sparks flew instantly. and people would say, “they’re the lucky ones”.

I have this habit, or perhaps it’s best to be called a quirk.  See, I love love love hearing other people’s love stories.  I love hearing how they met.  I love hearing how nervous they were before their first date.  I love hearing how they knew the other was “The One” for them.  I love hearing how they overcame the obstacles of time and distance.  I love see that after all their years together, they still love at one another like in the beginning of their lifelong romance. 

I ask friends- new and old.  I ask my parents and friends’ parents.  And I ask strangers too.  I ask everyone and anyone, especially when I’m drunk.  Ohmygosh, I always ask people when I’m at the bar.  This is such a common activity of mine that you can pretty much assume that if you see me talking to a guy & girl at the bar, then I’m probably hearing all about their love story.  There are so many nights that I’ve engaged in conversations with couples about their courtship, and I absolutely love talking to girls’ boyfriends/fiancées/ husbands to hear them admit their love.  I cannot explain it, it’s just one of life’s simple pleasures for me. 

While talking to others, I find myself with thoughts of my own stories…about love (or something like that).  Blame it on the alcohol?  But they’re not love stories- or at least not your typical love stories, for these stories do not end how love stories are supposed to end (or not end).  I always thought that I’d tell our love story- mine and the one that I’ve always thought was my “One”.  That it would come to the point where there would be a love story to tell.  I could say, with butterflies still fluttering around in my stomach, that I knew there was something about him the first time I saw him in our college dining hall.  I’d open up about our coincidental background (Pittsburgh upbringing) and how it can be construed as fate.  I could share that time and distance kept us apart for years, but that I never stopped believing.  I would say that I’d do it all over again- battle all of the years of pain- if it meant that we ended up together, sharing our love story and inspiring others to believe that love exists.

It hasn’t panned out that way- and I’m finally in acceptance that it never will (which is okay)-  but I still know our story…but it’s just probably no longer the making of a love story- like Claire & Henry or Allie & Noah.  It really is okay, but it would still be nice to know that there was a love story between us to tell.  It would be nice to know that all of these years of believing in him, believing in the possibility of us was more than just false hope.  It would be nice to know that love stories still do exist outside of a movie set, and that I could always tell mine/ours to inspire others to keep on believing. 

The easiest and most difficult thing in the world is to B.E.L.I.E.V.E.  It’s easy because sometimes you just don’t have a choice, because when it comes to love your heart does the choosing for you…and you’re just left to believe.  But it is difficult and we all have those stories to tell.  We just have to remember that nothing worth having comes easily, so if it’s difficult then perhaps it’s because it’s worth fighting for.  What makes it easier is believing in love; believing that it exists and that you’re worthy of having it; and believing that your story deserves a happy ending- or, better put- another chapter.

Even if my story doesn’t end up having another chapter, I still feel the need to tell it.  It’s equivalent to an emotional comedy -as Anne Hathaway and Jake Gyllenhaal are calling their new movie, Love and Other Drugs, coincidentally filmed in Pittsburgh- but my story is not a movie.  My story is real.  I know this because I lived it.  Each and every chapter of my story is part of my biography: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

Can I be really honest here?  I mean, why not?  It’s my blog after all. Okay, so all along during these past 7 years, I’ve thought that if I don’t keep believing- in him, in us- then I wasn’t believing in love.  I’ve been under the (possibly mistaken) impression that to believe in him/us meant believing in love- and vice versa.  However, I am quite aware that following this belief may be perceived as the contrary, as I’ve heard the same lines over and over again: Honey, there are so many fish (boys) in the sea (world).  Let it (him) go, and if it (us) is meant to be then it will come back.  He’s just not “The One” for you.

Truth be told, I don’t know what to believe anymore (about love).  I’m not sure I know what love is.  Seriously, what is love?  Brandon and I used to pose that question all the time (mockingly), but now he’s living happily ever after with Steph and I cannot help but wonder how he figured it out and I have yet to.  Maybe what I felt and believed in wasn’t actually love.   Maybe it only was a lesson to be learned; a stop along my journey; and/or an indicator of what love isn’t supposed to be.  Again, I really don’t know what love looks like, and more importantly what it feels like.

I’m 27 years old and I may not have a love story of my own to tell, but I have so many stories about love to share.  My own life story is a love story: A story about me falling in love with myself and the world that I’m creating for myself and those I love.  There may never be a Prince Charming, but there will be a guy that I love dearly.  There may not be any Fairy Godmothers, but God, are there a lot of beautiful people helping me along my way.  There may neither be a Ball to attend nor glass slippers to wear, but there each day has the potential to bring magic, miracles, & happily ever afters and who needs glass slippers when you have ballet flats, high heels, and boots for all season!

And as for that potential love story that I always hoped to tell, well, only time will tell.  Sure it has the makings of a great love story, but a love story isn’t about being a hit in neither the box office nor the bookstore.  All a great love story needs is two people and love.  The other details are just, well, details.  If you have those major components, then you have it all and you’ll definitely be “the lucky ones”.

Song of the Moment: The Story of Us by Taylor Swift- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIBZ4T7BkyU

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2 thoughts on “i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us. how we met and the sparks flew instantly. and people would say, “they’re the lucky ones”.

  1. I totally hear your heart in this! And, after committing to a year in relationship with SELF… (which turned into two!) I became who I was all along, uncovering the layers of ME… disposing of what I thought i was but wasn’t (a surfer, a tomboy, an extreme sports enthusiast). Not to say I never was one of those things at a given time… but I wasn’t THAT NOW….and it was OK to let them go.. so I could nurture THIS ONE… this special one. And for awhile I really enjoyed being in relationship with ME… so much so that when i saw my love, I thought “uh-oh, this one’s going to mess with your single-hood.”
    And others saw it too.. and it is a love story I would tell you if you asked me in the bar… and there were others before it… but not like THIS one…

    You may have heard it before… but 27… so young! ahh I loved my 20’s, and loved being single in my 20’s. I believe that the 20’s are all about discovering who you are…and your 30’s are all about discernment… now that you KNOW who you are what/who are you going to invite into your world??

    May you get to tell your love story some day. May you revel in THIS moment, this relationship of ONE as well.. knowing that single does not equal alone.. for there are many many people/animals/things around us all the time. sending us love.

    1. Thanks so much, Tara. With you saying that you “hear (my) heart in this”, well that just means so much to me.

      You know, I met someone recently and my head was thinking the same ‘uh-oh’ that you thought. But thankfully because I know more about who I am, I’m ready to see who can be a part of my life. I love how you put it- “single does not equal alone”. Perfectly said, but it’s those who know themselves well enough that can see who/what else is around them.

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