Why Falling In Love With The Wrong Person Is Totally The Right Thing To Do


I like big love. Extravagant, thrilling, passionate, and equal love. I will admit that I have no idea what it’s like to be completely in love with another person, but I know what I want.  My relationship experiences are nothing short of small disasters and loose bed-sheets.  Men seemed to creep in and out of my life with no warning and left me there completely exposed and vulnerable. I have touched the innocence of young heartbreak and happenstance.

 I’ve lent out my heart with expectations above my reach. My whole life, I always knew what I wanted but I could never seem to fully grasp it because my wants never matched what the day lent me. I fell in love with the wrong kinds of people, the douche bags, the heart breakers. Something about tattoos and vein writhed hands and dark hair made my body lust for an ethereal love exposition.  I tended to seek out these kinds of love because it seemed so intriguing. I have a thing for handing over my unreturned tenderness to men and expecting to get it back later.

I tend to misplace things often. My emotions never tend to stay in the same place. My love hides when it is most needed. It is nearly impossible to keep my head and my heart in the same room because one always seems to stray from the other. I tend to lose myself to the ones who abuse it, then leave it there and forget who I was supposed to be.

Throughout my life, I always relied on men to find me; my misplaced and misguided soul. As a woman, it was always expected that until you find a man that can fix your inherent “brokenness” then you were unwholly. If a man saw you fit to be his wife then you had reached the peak of ultimate femininity and thus you would be prosperous and bear his gentile offspring. Having this notion, I set out to find this said fixer and that’s how I became almost engaged by the age of 17.

My feeble minded self was swept away by the alluring grace of several men whom took advantage of this fact and tried to repair what they saw needed healing. The repairman transformed into a landlord, reminding me what parts of my body were the most indispensable, all doors and windows must be properly secured and have appropriate working locks. No other repairman was to have a key because the landlord owned the rights to the tenants inhabitance. I paid with my innocence to live in his property and I was expected to maintain a clean and working environment because the residence of my being and fragility was subject to be checked at any time. The landlord was also a mechanic in his spare time and saw that parts of me were not acting properly.

He tried changing it’s oil and it’s muffler to fit his standards of what was a properly working machine who not only looked the right way, but also sounded and gave him back all of the effort he had put into fixing it. The mechanic knew that if his car didn’t work the way it was supposed to, there was no way he would be able to be okay with riding in it. Once the car seemed to be just right, there was still something not quite there.

There was another car that was more beautiful and had a smoother ride and gave the mechanic everything he had previously been longing for. Until then, he’d act like he was okay with it and he’d brag about all the effort he put into fixing it but he knew he’d soon leave the car because no matter how hard someone tries to fix another, something will always break it again.

I’m fully aware that I have no idea what it’s like to be in love with anyone except my dog. I have no concept of what it’s like to be loved completely and entirely by another human being because I, myself, was never wanted in that way. Throughout high school, I had trouble detaching myself from old associations and preferred to fix myself steadily on one person. I went on dates with people older than myself and became disheartened when they did not work out. I tried to convince myself I felt nonexistent love and in a bout of self-deprecation, I almost agreed to a marriage proposal brought on by an ex boyfriend.  

As much as I forced it to be, love was never my forte. I found myself wrapped in sheets doused with cheap liquor and self-doubt, estranged from my pneuma in the definition of who I was supposed to be. I found myself clinging to one man after the next looking for that one great love that would change everything, a love that could find all of the things that I had lost in calloused hands and long car rides to forgotten places. I found myself drunk off excuses standing in the corner of a party I was only invited to out of pity. I was never the partying type.

Alcohol tastes like urine and I didn’t want any part of it. The thought of mingling around with strangers was nothing less than unbearable, but I had somehow ended up there standing with a small group of supercilious people I barely knew and who were too drunk to remember my name and only talked about rather scholarly matters and the latest art galleries downtown. The air was hazy and smelled like dizzying champagne and perfume mixed with the theatrics of a rather studious bunch.

Through the heavy air I glanced at a boy standing next to me with a glass of discouragement in his hand. He smelled like cigarettes and winter musk and his face was quite unshaven and overgrown. I could tell he was rather tipsy as he attempted at making light conversation with me.

“What’s that?” I said before I could think of anything else.

“Chardonnay” he replied, “I believe it’s from France”.

We stood there for a moment against the raucous laughter of the crowd. I wanted to leave badly, but something pulled me into him. I stole a glance at his side profile, he was looking out at the party and his gaze told me that he didn’t exactly want to be here either. I twisted a loose curl from my bun in my hand and chewed at my lips.

“I don’t know why you look so sad” he said in a hushed voice. Before I could say anything he turned and looked at me.

“There are so many things to be hopeful about. I can tell you’re unhappy.”

“Actually, I am quite happy.”

“You’re lying” he said back.

“No I’m not.”

“You blinked when you said it, I can tell you’re lying.”

“I blinked because I had to blink” I said back. He punched me jokingly in the arm as I couldn’t help but laugh at this minuscule argument.

“See, now you’re happy.”

We stood there for awhile and talked about life and politics and embarrassing relationship stories. He asked why a girl like me didn’t have a boyfriend and I told him that things just never seemed to work out for me and there was no point in trying. He turned and looked directly at me as he swirled the champagne glass around in his hand.

“You know why you keep falling for the assholes” he said, “because you settle.  You expect so much out of love and you want to feel that image of the love you imagined your whole life, so you settle.  Love should be extravagant.  Love should be mind-blowing and amazing.”

It was at that moment that I realized I was tired of love that was not beautiful.  My whole life was spent falling in love with the wrong kinds of men.  So much of my time was spent with my head shoved into tear stained pillows wondering why I was never good enough.  The truth is, I could not be more grateful for the chance I had to fall in love with the wrong kinds of people.  Falling in love with someone who is wrong for you or someone who cannot love you back only makes you stronger.  It make you grow as a person because you learn what you really should be after I refuse to accept love that is not wild, exciting, and passionately thrilling and I will no longer spend my time on things that will not shape me.  

The point of life is to make something of yourself in this world and to have as much adventure and laughter and joy as you can. Love comes when it knows you’re ready. It doesn’t show up necessarily when you want it to, it doesn’t run on a schedule. Love is like an extra perk to this crazy life. It’s this total random thing that nobody can prepare for because that’s just what it is, it’s unexpected. You’re going to be hurt by a lot of people.

You’re going to feel totally worthless because one guy thought you weren’t good enough. You can’t wait for some guy to come along because you think something is wrong with you and you need to be fixed. Someday you’re going to find someone who totally cherishes and adores you and who realizes you couldn’t be made any more perfect because you already are.  Although it may seem hard right now, it is important to remember that every breakup, every heart break, all of the pain is for a reason.

Like they say, “when a door closes, a window opens.”  Each man that comes into your life is only showing you what you actually deserve and what you don’t want in a future relationship.

You’re learning, you’re growing, you’re preparing for that one great love.  You need to fall in love with people who aren’t meant to be with you because only with the knowledge of pain, can you truly appreciate joy.

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