late at night i toss and turn and dream of what i need. i need a hero. i’m holding out for a hero ’til the morning light.

I’m just going to say it.  I’m going to tell to tell you how it is.  How it’s always been.  Like rapid spitfire, here are the facts of my life.  My love life- or lack thereof.  Like a game of 21 questions, I’ll give my answers- without any questions being asked.  Okay, here it goes:

I had my first “boyfriend” within weeks of beginning 6th grade; and my second a few weeks later.  (Yeah, I had a lot of “boyfriends” during my middle school years.)  My first kiss was in 7th grade after a school dance.  (I can still- vaguely- remember it.)  My first pseudo-real boyfriend was as a freshman in high school.  (He was a junior at another high school.)  I had my first dose of heartbreak during my senior year of high school, and may have broken my first heart then too.  (Different guys.)  A few years later, as a college sophomore, I experienced a few firsts: First one-night stand (there were a few of those); first other stuff (no sex though); and first real bout of love…followed  by my first broken heart. 

While still mending my broken heart, I indulged in my first friends-with-benefits relationship in the summer following college graduation, which led to my ‘first’ a day after my twenty-third birthday.  I’ve been with four others since then.  (Note: I was neither in a relationship nor in love with any of them.)  And if you must know, the verdict is still out as to whether or not I’ve been in love a second time.  I like to think of it more along the lines of a high school more-than-a-crush.

So that’s my story.  It’s far from a poetic but better than that, it’s the truth.  But while this timeline shares many details, it leaves out so much.  It doesn’t include all of those boys that (may have) liked me but never once told me so.  It doesn’t share how many boys I kissed or made-out with that never called the next day.  And more importantly, it fails to mention all those nights when I curled up in bed wishing that tomorrow would be different; that tomorrow someone who walk into my life and make everything better- or at least have someone to stand by my side.

I’ve been having a fairly emotional week.  I’ve blamed it on being tired and stressed from large amount of school work I’ve had.  However, the truth is, my heart got a bit broken again this week; and as a result, I found myself feeling needy for a guy’s attention.  But the real thing I learned from this week is how much I still struggle with my own issues when it comes to boys and the potential of relationships & love.  While aknowledging that I’ve come a long way, my flaws really shined through this week- at least in my eyes.

I need a hero.  I need someone to rescue me from my own doubts and reservations; someone who can make me believe again.  Someone who can break down my walls and call me out on my issues.  I need someone who sees that I’ve had a rocky time with this stuff in the past and therefore, knows exactly what he can do and say to help me understand that he’s there for me.  I need that hero from my dreams to be more than a figment in my mind.  Instead I want to roll over in the morning and see him next to me.  Wishful thinking?  Yeah, probably.

The truth is I thought I found that hero- once upon a time.  I saw so much in him and really thought he could be the one I’ve always dreamed to find.  I thought he had potential to be a first for me; but instead, it turns out to be another statistic.  It’s okay.  Just disappointing, especially when I really had high hopes for that one.

I should probably end this post differently, but think this is how it’s going to be.  However, I will say that I haven’t fully given up on finding that hero eventually.  Simply I’m just struggling right now to make sense on how something can feel so right, yet be so wrong.  If you want more, listen to the song posted below and it can given an idea of the mood I’m finding myself in.

*The title of this post are lyrics from the beautiful song, Holding Out for a Hero by Ella Mae Bowen.

 

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