Love’s a bitch. God… it is such a mean little bitch.
Everyone wants it. Not everyone gets it. Sometimes we get knocked on our fucking face. Repeatedly.
The whole dating, falling in love and getting married song and dance is entirely a matter of chance. I hate that. After heartbreak or a string of atrocious dates, I often find myself in a long conversation with my mom or best friend. “It’s not fair,” I say. “It’s just not fair.”
It isn’t fair. And that’s the worst thing about love – fairness need not apply. Love doesn’t care about your looks, smarts, sense of humor, or how good of a person you might be. It doesn’t care about your success or fancy home. The amount of effort you put forth matters often matters little.
Some luck out right away, some take more time and others never find true, long-lasting love. I used to believe finding “the one” was a numbers game. While actively dating and putting yourself out there improves the odds, the end result still relies on luck and chance. The feeling is there or it isn’t. Sometimes it’s there for one person, but not the other. Maybe neither. Maybe both. Perhaps it’s there, but things fall apart. Then, there are those times it goes perfectly.
I bumped into an old friend of mine at the gym the other night. She’s a wonderful person with a (seemingly) perfect life. Devoted husband, three-year old son, beautiful home in the suburbs and currently 5 months pregnant (with the girl she’s always wanted). She had just returned from a trip to Italy with her husband. During our 5 minute stop and chat, I listened to her talk and couldn’t help wonder “Why not me?”
Why not me? Hell if I know. I certainly try. Maybe I’m trying too hard? There’s no rhyme or reason why some are fortunate in love and others are not. Amazing people fall in love. Shitty people fall in love.
Sure, we can choose who we date, who we fuck and who we marry. We can’t choose who we love. We can’t choose who loves us. All we can do is keep trudging on and hope that one day love grants us a little mercy.
One thing is for certain – I refuse to give up no matter how much it kicks my ass. Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment?