I’m Not Afraid Anymore

On my flight that was supposed to be six hours, but took nearly eight, I thought about the dates I’ve been on in the last few months…

-There was the one with the guy who told me there was no way I could write as much as he does every day, though he only writes two pages a day (Ha! Try at least 4 articles a day!)

-There was the one that I really liked – he was my very first Match date – but once he found out that I was a love writer, he never talked to me again.

-There was the one where the first date was great, but the second date was so strange that I couldn’t remember why I was attracted to him to begin with.

-There was the one where I met a handsome guy at a holiday party, it took us a month to actually go out, that date was great, but then he wanted to endlessly text instead of actually planning another date.

-There was the one where I tried the 36 questions that led to love, and though he was nice, I wasn’t into him, so it didn’t matter how he answered anything.

-There was the one that I was set-up on by a matchmaker, hoping he’d be just like I imagined… but he was basically, the opposite.

-There was the one where I was sober – thanks Whole30! – and I thought our ice skating and coffee date was amazing (and the kiss at the subway station) – but I never heard from him again.

-There was the one in Copenhagen that could have been romantic, had I not been locked out of my hotel, without a passport, without anything but my party dress, lipstick and wallet.

…and I’m sure there are more… or am I?

For someone who writes about dating mishaps and the rare occurrence when I find luck in love, I often find excuses not to go on dates instead of actually going on them. Seriously though – I can come up with a million more things that I could be doing or should be doing except going out with someone new: writing an article way before deadline, getting caught up on endless work, going to a fitness class, walking Lucy, spending time with my friends, laundry, organizing my closet, pinning on Pinterest, cooking for the week ahead, going to a concert with friends, cleaning out my inbox…

But there was nothing I could do but sit on that plane, watch odd movies (Kuwait Air is cheap, but it’s definitely an experience), read all of the books on my Kindle or walk the aisles until a flight attendant gave me side-eye, I was forced to face the reality of my dating life:

It’s not active enough. And more importantly, I’m so afraid that I won’t find love, that often, I don’t even really…. well, try.

It’s easier to just block myself off and busy myself with projects and events instead of agreeing to that glass of wine or that cup of jo. It’s much easier to spend time with people I already know I love and care about, without risking an evening where I’ll be bored out of my mind or annoyed that I wasted my time. It’s easier to never get excited about anyone and to just let things go instead of getting my hopes up or putting my whole heart out there, wondering if any man will (finally) stand up and take it. It’s easier to swipe on Tinder, browse on Hinge and message on anything that presents eligible bachelors than it is to actually make conversation, get offline, put on lipstick and sit at a crowded bar, making small talk with another stranger.

It’s easier to stay single because I’ve built this exciting, fun and adventurous life for myself. But as someone who loves love more than a normal human being should (guilty as charged) – if I don’t actually date more… I might be writing this blog for much longer than I want to.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m happy. I’m so thankful that I’m blessed for everything I have… but in this up-and-down journey to self-love, I want to see that partner standing at the other end. I want to build a life that’s not just for me but paired with someone else.

The truth is there in my heart and on these pages: I want love.

And so, though I can think of a million reasons why I don’t have enough time to go on a date or I’m not sure if the guy is worth the hour or the conversation… I’m going out tomorrow night. And then again on Saturday night.

Because I’ve nailed this whole writing about love thing. Now, I want to actually take the bigger step and be vulnerable not just with my words, but with my heart. I don’t want to be afraid I won’t find it anymore – I want to start to actually believing that it’s already near.

Because it is. Somewhere, everywhere, all the time, when I trust it and when I fear it, love is always on it’s way.