Being needed was all I knew of love. At least, that’s how I excused flame-out after flame-out. I was, after all, only in my 20s twenties, my mid-20s, my late 20s, and fumbling in love was par for the course. I watched my Facebook feed become a living scrapbook of engagement announcements and wedding portraits and babies’ first Christmases and realized that I picked these men because they could never give me those things. I would end up where I always did, where I feel safe and free: alone in a rented apartment, cooking for one and cuddling the dog.
I resonate deeply with this girl.
A smart friend of mine was listening to me proclaim my grief that Mr. Faraway wasn’t thinking about a life partner. It is true – we had a big argument last week after a month of inexcusable brushoffs. I finally had to gather up my self-respect and tell him that I needed time to process it all. There is weeping and a sadness in my chest that I can’t describe.
My smart friend observed how I completely entirely brushed off Mr. Viking, especially after he brought me flowers for the 3rd time. It gave me the creeps! I didn’t need someone falling over himself for me. I want a man who has his independence. Like Mr. Faraway. Who really truly seems to not need me so much. It is only after I fall in love with them that I am desperate for him to need me. Having chosen him for his independence though, he has never really gotten there.
I don’t think I associate my love with “being needed”, but I do think I associate it with “not needing me”. I want to give all of these guys everything I have, but only if they don’t possibly need me. I date independent guys who can’t possibly think of me in terms of settling down. I have so many walls up to prevent relationships where guys will actually possibly need me.
I’m not sure how to change this, but perhaps I just need to crack the door open just a little and let some fresh air in.