all the men i've dated (but not loved) before
a story of secrets, and insecurities, and yes, the men i've dated recently
can i tell you a secret?
i’ve never—and i mean never, ever—been in a “real” relationship. i’ll pause to give you a moment to digest that fact, because it’s a doozy. i hate to say this—to put it in writing is to admit that it must be true—but in my heart of hearts, i believe this fact is proof that there is something innately, irrefutably wrong with me. something rotten deep down, that all those who come into contact with me can smell.
the truth? well, that’s a bit more nuanced.
i spent much of my young adulthood believing i was unlovable and undesirable (for more on that, you can read prior essays here and here), lacking the confidence to truly put myself out there. we accept the love we think we deserve, and my insecurities blinded me to the rare boy or man who did desire me.
when i got to college, i found myself immediately bonded to a group of women with whom i did everything. i was so thrilled to have found my pack that i deprioritized relationships—who needs love when you have the best girlfriends in the whole damn world? i’d hook up with guys here and there, and most certainly harbored a few unrequited crushes, but for the most part, i was too busy living my best life to care about dating.
post-college, i moved to new york with said friends. a year later, those same friends kicked me to the curb (literally); overnight, my life cleaved into two parts: the before, and the after.
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