It’s been four years, four years of the single life. It’s going on five.
It may sound “sad” to some, but the truth of the matter is, they have been perhaps the best four-five years of my life.
Following the end of my first and only major relationship in 2012, I underwent something of a transformation. I changed my entire diet, cut my hair, and threw myself into my graduate studies, and friendships. It was less than 6 months when things became… shall, I say, even better.
I began to receive invites for fun events in the city. I met a makeup artist who helped me get into the modeling field which resulted in amazing and fun photo shoots. I randomly, and unexpectedly, was invited to show my artwork in multiple art shows. I discovered that my school would pay for my travels to conferences which took me to Washington D.C., Boston, and Baltimore. I received awards for my presentations and made connections galore. My short stories were published. My friendships grew. I had blossomed.
During that time, I dated sporadically, but nothing seemed to last more than a few weeks, maybe a month perhaps. And that’s how I wanted it. I didn’t want to open my heart up to love. I didn’t want the stress of a relationship. I just wanted time for myself. I wanted to go and do whatever I wanted and I was tired of not knowing who I was or what I wanted. So I took time to do that, and it was exhilarating and exciting and life sent me everything I could need to be happy.
Things changed though.
I graduated from college and moved to Los Angeles for my first job as an adult. I found a great roommate, new, fun friends, and a LA family at my new job. I even got my first blog post published and my first freelance writing gig with The Next Family.
And though everything was going great in my life (okay, I soon became restless at my new job), I couldn’t date to save my life in Los Angeles. Tinder was a bust. I went on two dates and one was horrendous. And… that was it. Nada mas.
At times, it bothered me. I mean, why wouldn’t it? I wanted to enjoy time with the opposite sex, even if it was on dates, but I found the men that I came in contact with in LA… even less interesting. And the ones I found interesting — were taken or were not interested in me. I couldn’t win.
At the eight month mark of my year in Los Angeles, I was already planning my return to Texas. What was the point of dating anyone then? So I stopped looking.
And I returned to Texas with a new career and the project of moving to a new place, making new friends, and living my new lifestyle. It took a lot of work to do all that and I would not have been able to have dated during that time. I had to make a liveable wage, and soon I did. And soon I had an apartment, and soon after, a large group of friends.
I did all of this quicker than expected and suddenly I was free to date. So I tried. I tried Tinder and Bumble. Nothing worked. I met men on there, but none that would actually meet me for a date. Only one was of actual interest to me, but I would have welcomed dates from guys that were less interesting, if not for me to at least get the experience of going out on dates — it had been about a year since my last date by then.
And as my life continued in Dallas, my life continued to get better. I made more friends, had great experiences, traveled often, and started this blog. Still no dating experiences though.
And that’s when it started to get hard. Two years had passed since my last date. I had given up on Tinder and Bumble. I started to miss the companionship of another, a man that shared my interests — someone I could talk to, at the least. I was tired of talking to the same type of guy I had always sought out — jock type who were just interested in work and working out and had little ambition to compare to mine. I wanted to meet a guy that was attractive, funny, smart, creative, maybe liked to read (you don’t realize how hard that is to find), and God forbid, did something beyond just worked and worked out.
Now, please keep in mind, I didn’t want to get married. I didn’t even want a boyfriend. I still had things to do, places to go, goals to accomplish. What I wanted — which I only discovered later — was hope.
I wanted the hope that the universe, God, whatever, wanted love, partnership, companionship, and happiness to return to my life, at least one day. I didn’t need it now, per say. I didn’t need it in the next year. I just needed to know that I could love again, someone could love me one day. I just needed to know that there were men that were complex, creative, “woke” individuals who could meet me on my level. I needed hope that that would be a part of my life someday. I wanted a sign.
And I got it.
I asked the universe to send me a sign and it did. Pretty loud and clear. And though I’d love to share that story, I’m not quite ready to do that. All I can say is that I’m still single. Still super single. No boyfriend. Not married. Not in love. Single.
And you know what, I’m okay with that. And I’m prepared to be single as long as it takes to meet the right guy for me — even if that means I’m single for another four years, so be it. Because that was also a part of the sign — love is not meant to be a part of my life right now — at least, not yet. But it’s out there, and I like to think the universe is grooming a good one to meet me one day.
I wish that I had not lost faith in the idea that someone could love me again, that I could find someone who I could love, but I did. And yet, the only thing that gave me hope again, was asking the universe to show me that I could love again, I could meet someone fantastic and exciting, and that someone like that would be interested in me. And the universe answered.
So, no, it’s not easy to have faith when it comes to love. We all want to love and be loved. But when you feel extremely down, whether it deals with love or some other aspect of your life, ask the universe for a sign, for help, for hope.
The universe will answer. I promise.