Does love exist for everyone?

We all say that once you stop looking for love, love will find you. We also say not to stop chasing after what you want and that "if it's meant to be, it will be". 

It is always wise to pursue your dreams and take every step you can towards achieving it, but what if one of your dreams is to have a happy relationship? Are you supposed to chase it or are you supposed to pretend like you're not looking for it so that it can magically appear in your lap? 

Over the course of my young adulthood, I've been constantly chasing after love with little to no luck until now...I think? I'm currently in a relationship that is now hanging by a thread after 4ish months of dating. We're in a long-distance relationship and it's hard. Very hard. It's especially hard since he hates cellphones, texting, and social media. To top it all off, he's going through some personal problems that have taken a massive toll on him and drastically changed the dynamics in our relationship. 

He used to be madly in love with me, texting me all the time and worrying if I didn't text back within a couple of hours. You know how it is in the honeymoon phase. Things were great, we were so drugged up on each other's love that I felt like we would always be on cloud nine. He told me sweet, amazing things that let me know that he was in this for the long haul--something no guy has ever said to me without feeling anxious or uneasy. I was so happy to have finally found someone that lined up with my values and wasn't afraid to daydream about our future together. 

Even though we were happy together, sometimes he would say or do things that upset me, which is inevitable in any relationship. Naturally, I told him about it so that he would understand me more and know how to avoid accidentally hurting my feelings. At first, it would devastate him when I told him that something bothered me because he thought he had shot his chances at being together with me but...I guess at some point, I got bothered by TOO MANY little things that it started bothering him.

Honestly, when I talk about it, I blank out so I really couldn't give you any examples even if I wanted to. Nowadays, I can't express myself because he'll feel like everything he does makes me think he's an asshole or he feels like I'm blaming him and making him the bad guy in our relationship. I've tried everything to try to communicate with him in a level-headed manner but I don't think I'm doing it right.  

We've both realized that when we're physically together, everything fits perfectly and we're two peas in a pod. However, when we're apart, things start falling apart and we seem to fight every other day. I guess it's a huge red flag since we can't seem to civilly get by when we're apart. Many friends ask me if I'm happy and I can't seem to give them a straight answer. I'm over the moon when we're physically together but when we're apart, I just seem to find myself feeling the way I've felt back when I was Tinder dating. It's painful.

I keep trying to be hopeful and patient. I'm hoping that this relationship can be salvaged and that somehow, we can move forward as a stronger couple. The light in my eyes is getting a little dimmer and I'm finding myself believing less and less in love or soulmates. I seem to always drive away my partners or people I date.

I don't believe I'll ever find someone who'll truly match up with me. Maybe I'm too demanding. Maybe I'm too entitled. Maybe my standards are too high. It's impossible to have cycled through so many people and just...come up with nothing.

Maybe there's just no one out there for me.

In love, I believe that sometimes we have to make sacrifices with our wants and needs in a partner. It is practically impossible to find someone who'll definitely always make you happy. Maybe that's okay. I just don't know how much is too much to ask for and how incompatible two people can be before it is inevitable that the relationship will never work out. 

A virgin's jumbled thoughts on S-E-X

The following post was written in January 2016 as a means of sorting out my thoughts. It was kept as a draft for the longest time and now I've decided to publish it. Enjoy!

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Ever since I've given sex some thought, I've always been consistent with one central idea: I want to lose my virginity to someone I love.  Many people tell me that it's completely understandable and justifiable to want that and they all respect my decision.  Although some have questioned it out of pure curiosity, none have ever judged me for it.

My sexual appetite has only been growing as I've been cycling through the guys I've mentioned on this blog (and some that haven't been mentioned).  Many times, I've considered having sex with a select few of them even though I knew I did not love them because, well, things felt really good.

I know that having sex with someone you don't love—even for the first time—is totally fine and I don't judge anyone for doing so.

I still can't help but fight my impulsive sexual urges because deep down, I know it isn't time yet despite the fact that I've pretty much been engaging in activities that are severely borderline "sex".  The only difference between what I was doing then and "real" sex was the fact that no penetration had been had.

In some respects, mentally, maybe I've already had sex.  Maybe there isn't going to be much of a difference between the me now and the me post-sex.  I mean, I don't expect to have some sort of spiritual awakening after I have sex, but I do expect myself to feel a little different.

I know that it sounds like I envision myself as a new reborn woman of sorts after I engage in the sex and to illustrate this better, here's an analogy that I think sums up what I think you're thinking: 

When someone's birthday rolls around, they expect that after hitting a certain age (most commonly 18 or 21), they'll be a full blown adult and feel way more mature as well as different.  Once their actual birthday comes up, they realize that nothing has changed and everything is definitely the same.  Their mentality, actions, viewpoints, everything is still the same and that the person they were the day before their birthday hadn't gone through any major changes in the measly 24 hours that had passed since then.

I feel like although I may not drastically change how I feel once I have sex, I'll feel like I've achieved a milestone or something.

Sometimes I think about how many people rave about sex and that since it's so good, maybe I should give it a try and be able to experience more of it while I can.  After that thought, I proceed to question my reasoning behind keeping my virginity.  I second guess every decision I've made and wonder if it was the right thing to do.

Lately, I've realized that a small reason for my reluctance to jump into the sack with a guy is due to the crippling fear that once I have sex with him, he won't want me anymore.

I never really thought about this or addressed this fear before, but I now see that that is an underlying problem with me.

My parents have always told me that once I have sex with a guy and should I, god forbid, accidentally get pregnant, I'll be stranded.  This guy has no obligations to me and he can just take off after we've done the do, leaving me with the responsibility of taking care of our child.  While they're not wrong, I know that this scenario could also take a different turn.

They hadn't taught me about safe sex and scared me with a worst possible scenario type of situation, which has obviously proven very effective.

But the fact of the matter is, I'm scared.  I'm terrified that once I have sex with someone, he might want to do it again a couple more times and then get bored of me.  And then what?  He moves on.  He's successfully claimed my body and he can move onto the next girl and satisfy his sexual desires with someone new.

And then there I am: attached, alone, and sad beyond compare.  I'm afraid that I'll feel a connection that he isn't feeling.  What if my heart is in twisted knots and my stomach is full of butterflies because I'm a hopeless romantic and this guy is just thinking about what he's going to have for lunch the next day? 

On the other hand, what if I don't feel any feelings?  What if all I feel is this mechanical motion and I totally regret ever engaging in this sexual activity?  I'm afraid of feeling guilty.  I'm afraid of feeling like a whore.  I'm afraid of regret.

I would like to stress that I don't think that anyone who has sex is a whore, I'm just afraid that I will unfairly judge myself because I can be harsh to myself sometimes.

I want to have sex with someone who'll offer a safe, understanding environment.  I know it will hurt and someone who is gentle and loving will definitely make it all easier/better.  I'd definitely feel much more comfortable knowing that I'm in good hands and that if, at any point, I'm in a panic, he'll stop and comfort me.

I know that my first time with someone will not be rainbows and butterflies. My friends have told me that it's not as special as you'd think it'd be and I believe them. 

Obviously I won't feel like unicorns have grazed my shoulders with their luscious manes and granted me happiness beyond compare but I do expect to feel a connection. 

That connection I've felt with a few guys when we were kissing so slowly and beautifully,  it made me tear up a couple of times. 

That connection, that right there, that's what I expect to feel during sex with someone I care about. I may not feel it the first couple of times, but I do think that the next few times will be really special. 

I want them to be special. 

I want my first partner to share his vulnerability with me and I want him to feel me giving my all to him. 

I want passion. I want love. I want tenderness. I want something that makes me smile uncontrollably. 

I feel like since I've felt such a range of emotions in simple changes of rhythm while kissing, sex can also be experienced in such variety as well. 

With different partners come different depths of connections and no matter how shallow they may be, they'll still be different from one a other. 

That's a little exciting. 

Despite my fear and wariness of certain consequences sex may bring, I've started taking more and more baby steps towards being okay with losing my virginity.