Love is not a butterfly
I was speaking to one of my dear friends last night and she was joking about how she’d just made a chicken nugget pizza and was sitting on the couch drinking Champagne.
She mentioned that she’s sick of doing this stuff alone.
That really struck a chord in me.
I have been criticised for pursuing love too aggressively. There’s a pervasive belief that love will settle on your shoulder like a butterfly. Here’s the thing: I have never had a butterfly just land on me. I could be waiting for a really long time.
I am fucking lonely. I don’t want to sleep alone. I want to love and be loved. I want to have a plus one. I want to find the yang for my yin.
I am not lacking in self-esteem. I love myself in a healthy, ‘you go girl’ kind of way. I am fairly independent (notwithstanding the occasional cash loan from friends and family when I’m really on the ropes), I’m educated, well-travelled, well-read … blah, blah, blah …
I have done all the self-development. I have tried and not tried.
Is it really so outrageous to just want to meet a decent, fun, kind, heterosexual, unmarried person who I can go to sleep with?