Love…the heck is that?

Today, a coworker announced in all giddyness, her engagement. There has been word thru the office that she has actually been expecting it because her and her boyfriend, now fiancee have been together for some time. Hearing women talk about engagement after a certain point in relationships got me wondering. Is being engaged an expected right of passage for women in relationships?

Well, Ms. D walked in proud this morning with her left ring finger sparkling like the sun was following her around like Fonzworth Bentley and her smile even brighter. I glanced at the ring, but I was more interested in her heart, her feelings, what made her know that saying yes was the right thing to do? When I heard other women talking about her ring, I thought, hey…it’s not necessarily about the ring. I got irritated because I feel as though women have degraded engagement to a ring status.

When did we spend more time and categories analyzing a diamond than we did analyzing our love? When did the rind take precedence over the love?

Love to me is more important than a ceremonial segue way. Love is a losing battle, love is a battlefield, love is…some complicated bullshit.

How am I supposed to believe and trust in love when I have no strong marriages to look up to within my family? When I have a father that doesn’t even love me? When I have friends who claim love and do the opposite to their significant other? When the people who are supposed to love me most, hurt me, betray me and pretty much forget I exist until they need me? When the first experience of romantic love was a all around lie, from who (s)he claimed to be to how (s)he claimed to love me?

I’d say I am not even supposed to believe in love at this point. I should have just invested in 12 cats and called it a day. The realist in me would have just poured herself into her work, hobbies, whatever that could make it all just fade to black. But the dreamer in me stood up and took a stand. The dreamer in my left a piece of my heart to be healed and loved. I can’t believe something is still in my chest insisting it was made for more than pumping blood. But it’s there. The hope, is there. The desire, is there.

But the caring for it, is lost. I want to know how to heal from my past so that I can move on with my future. I want to know how to not blame everything around me including my experiences or outside factors. I want to blame myself. I want to grow up and take responsibility for my actions and learn from my mistakes finally. I want that wide-eyed bushy-tailed look. I want to feel the rush of a crush. I want to fall in love with love. Again.

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