When I was younger I loved to watch Disney movies. (Just in case you're wondering, I still love to watch them, but that's not really important as far as the story I'm about to tell is concerned.) And I think watching those movies over and over and over may have a lot to do with why, even in high school, I still believed that one day I would meet my "prince" and he would be the first and last and only guy I would ever fall in love with.
I feel it's important for me to mention that when I turned eighteen and graduated from high school I was still more than a little naive. I had never been kissed and the only date I had gone on ended with the guy offering to pay for my dinner and me saying, "Do it and I'll kick you in the throat." (I had had a martial arts lesson earlier that day and the instructor told me a good way to stop someone from doing something you didn't want to do was to kick them in the throat). Perhaps needless to say, we never went out again (although we did become close friends) and I learned it's better to just say "thank you" when a guy offers to pay for you.
In any event, though, at the beginning of the summer before my first year of college, I was still convinced that my perfect prince was out there somewhere, waiting for me to notice him. And so it was that within a week or two of graduation I went out on my first date with the guy who would become my first boyfriend and who I hoped for two years was my first and last and only love. He was handsome and fun to be around and even my parents liked him and I quickly fell head over heels in love with him, but somewhere around a year and a half later I learned that I was not his first and last and only love. No, as it turned out, I wasn't even his only girlfriend.
I was heart broken when I learned he had been dating someone else for close to the entire time we had been together. But he was such a smooth talker and I was so convinced that he was the man I was going to be with for the rest of my life that I decided to give him a second chance and then a third and then a fourth and oh so many more chances than I should have. By end of the summer after my sophomore year of college I was fighting with my parents because they wanted me to stop seeing him. I cried almost every night for several weeks in a row and yet I couldn't bring myself to give up my dream that my first love would be perfect and would never end. But eventually, with the help of my friends, I came to see that my relationship had to come to an end. And so, just before I left for my junior year of college, I ended things with the guy who was supposed to have been my first and last and only love.
That fall I took a non-fiction writing seminar and, for my final project, I wrote about my failed relationship. When I first started the essay I was hurt and angry and all but convinced that true love didn't exist, but by the time I got to the last paragraph (close to five months after my break up), I found I was once again feeling hopeful. I ended the essay by saying that I would not let one bad relationship rob me of my hope that one day I would meet a wonderful, trustworthy guy who I would be able to spend the rest of my life with.
And so it was that a couple months later I began dating once again. But for the next three years I just couldn't seem to let myself get attached to anyone. I was so scared that they would hurt me again like my first boyfriend had that I would end things with each guy who showed an interest in me before things got too serious.
This past June I unexpectedly began dating once again and after a month or so I came to realize that our relationship was quickly evolving into something more than a summer fling. As the summer drew to a close, I became more and more aware of the fact that I was getting attached to him and the all too familiar feelings of worry and fear began creeping up on me. For a while, on the nights I spent alone, thoughts like "How can I be sure he won't cheat on me like my ex-boyfriend did?" and "How can I be certain that he wants to be with me and only me?" would sneak unbidden into my head.
As time went on, though, I realized that he (unlike my first boyfriend) truly deserved my trust and the thoughts began to keep me awake less and less. I found I was still terrified to let myself get so attached to someone again because--even though I knew I could trust him--by letting myself get attached to him, I was making myself vulnerable to getting hurt.
I guess what I'm coming to realize, though, is that relationships aren't always perfect like in Disney movies and they aren't always terrible like my first one was either. Sometimes, the first person you fall for just isn't destined to be your first and last and only love like in the movies. And maybe sometimes the second or third or fourth won't turn out to be the one you'll spend the rest of your life with either. But if you don't let go of the past and allow yourself to get attached to someone (even when it means you could get hurt again), you'll never be able to find that special someone who will make you happy and who just might turn out to be your last and only love for the rest of your life.
On that note, I'll leave you with a couple quotes:
- “When we think we have been hurt by someone in the past, we build up defenses to protect ourselves from being hurt in the future. So the fearful past causes a fearful future and the past and future become one. We cannot love when we feel fear.... When we release the fearful past and forgive everyone, we will experience total love and oneness with all."
- "When one door of happiness closes, another opens, but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened for us."
- "Sometimes the cards we are dealt are not always fair. However you must keep smiling and moving on."
Until next time.
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