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I Know The One Is Out There, But Waiting For Him Is Making Me Jaded

I wasn't always like this.

I started out hopeful. Doe-eyed with an animated, contagious aura, I'd hit up New York bars with my girlfriends and smile at every cute guy who might be a potential relationship candidate for me.

I quickly realized, though, that the process leading me to “the one” was going to be tedious. Just because finding love was easy for my friends doesn't mean it would be easy for me. It would require having a ton of hellish experiences that can only be called “dates” if you stretch the truth.

But I'm no longer feeling positive about finding love. My teens and 20s were a series of f*ck buddies, hookups, almost-relationships, hangouts-with-the-guy-who's-almost-ready-but-not-quite, and DAMN-I-thought-he-was-“the-one”-but-nope-I-was-just-romanticizing-things. I've gone through more men than Leonardo DiCaprio has gone through models (eh, I'm pretty damn close), and now, I'm exhausted. My life has been one long, bumpy carousel of men that didn't work out. One sparkly disappointment after another.

Now, I'm jaded.

Half of me is still sort of hopeful: See, I've put in my time, which makes me feel like I'm really close, so I'm anticipating love is on its way (I mean, how many f*ck-ups can a gal experience in one lifetime?). But the other, stronger half of me is bitter: I've gotten so used to frequent philandering from f*ckboys that I hardly expect anything anymore.

And I hate those bitter parts of me because I don't want to be bitter. I've never been a bitter girl. I'm inherently sweet and bubbly and blindly cheerful. I don't recognize the girl I've become.

Universe, I've been patient. It's not like I've been holding my breath or anything, but as I stood by the side of each guy that didn't work out  — all while knowing deep down that he wasn't the love of my life — I sighed a million sighs and lost little pieces of my soul. My formerly optimistic, hopelessly romantic soul.

Love, to me, is a luxury, and the best part about it is it's FREE. There are only so many luxuries in the world that are free, and I can definitely count them on one hand. I think I deserve a luxury. I deserve the LOVE I've been dreaming of.

I've been on the waitlist for love since my 23rd birthday, dammit. Where IS he? I know he's out there. He can't not be. I know I'm not going to be alone forever surrounded my poorly kept roses and apartment dust bunnies I'm too lazy to clean.

But the fact remains that I'm losing faith. And I don't want to throw my hate-the-world energy onto the men I've yet to meet, because one of those men might be the one I'm waiting for. I don't want that man to think I'm some lost cause, like some pretty girl who'd be perfect if she didn't have resting jaded face. I want him to meet the girl I was before I got my heart brutally broken and discovered that the world is filled with evil assholes who reel you in just to f*ck you, then drop you just as quickly as they found you.

Heartbreak changes us for the better because it makes us stronger, but it also changes us for the worse, because it leads us to wrongfully believe that the heartbreaker is the best damn card we're ever going to get dealt. I'm no longer heartbroken, just wary

If love worth having takes time to find, and if I believe that everyone eventually gets her moment in the sun, then when will it be my time to shine? I've been in the dark far too long.

I know the guy I've longed for will creep up on me. I've always imagined that when I'm close to meeting him, I'll feel it — I'll feel cosmically connected to him somehow. But there are no signs, no signals, nothing to look forward to. And if I could just have a timetable of sorts — if I could just know when I'll meet him — I'd breathe easy. Sleeping through the night wouldn't be so hard. I'd completely change my disposition and revert back to the sweet girl I always used to be. But there's no feeling in my bones that something's about to happen.

I'm f*ckboy-free. I'm loving myself the best way I know how. My heart is open and willing and able. So I guess my question is, Is it my f*cking turn yet?

True love, I'm ready for you. Hell, I've been ready. I cannot wait to fall in love, because I know that when I do, it'll feel like happiness and a million hugs in one and like big, bright comets are flashing across the sky every minute of every day.

… but seriously, I can't wait any longer.

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Sheena Sharma

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Sheena is a Sex & Dating Writer for Elite Daily. Follow her single girl adventures on Snapchat: sheenybeanz A born-and-bred New Yorker, she's in love with love, and started CurryousAmerican.com, a blog exclusively for the single girl.
Sheena is a Sex & Dating Writer for Elite Daily. Follow her single girl adventures on Snapchat: sheenybeanz A born-and-bred New Yorker, she's in love with love, and started CurryousAmerican.com, a blog exclusively for the single girl.

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