For the longest of times I have had trouble with being a lesbian. I find myself in a harsh reality of how difficult it can be being a lesbian and, I guess, finding a compatible partner. I grew up with the notion of “happily ever after” that you only see in Hollywood romances or read about in a collective of Jane Austen books, but the truth of the matter is – that shit just doesn’t happen.
I write about a romance that will never happen the way I envision it, and I wonder now at 29 years of age, have I cheated myself because I’ve had expectations on what love is?
I don’t want just “anyone” – I want “the one.”
As far back as I can remember I have been stuck inside a Hollywood trap of everlasting love and soul-mates. But, in the real world, I have found that it doesn’t always happen the way you think it will. Romance is dead. Chivalry is dead. So, settle for the next best thing – whatever that is.
Thus began a 5 year long battle with accepting myself, my sexuality and the failings of love.
I’m a self-described philanderer. I’ve had many very short, brief, sexual relationships with women; sometimes at the same time. For a very long time, I have not wanted anything more from another human being other than just sex. This dates back to feeling and thinking of a polyamorous philosophy that one person can love multiple people. Also, truthfully, I have not wanted to let too many people get close to me.
This doesn’t always happen, however. Every once in awhile, there was a person who ‘got the better of me’ so to speak. I began dating said people, but it always ended up the same story in the end: I couldn’t give them what they were looking for because ultimately, they were not what I was looking for.
They weren’t “the one” for me, and although I had shoved aside the notion of my “happily ever after” soul-mate perception on love, it was still there with each broken heart I caused.
Being a lesbian is hard.