I once knew a man who thought the entire world would fall in love with me if they knew what he did. To him, I was not just his universe, but every star, so how could anyone feel differently? He didn’t love me despite, but because of all I was. A man like that ruins a woman like me. After you’ve been treasured that much, the mediocre feelings of lesser men stop mattering. That’s what bachelorettes and serial monogamists are made of sometimes, I guess: all the love stories of our histories, which few men will ever be able to emulate.
It’s why I rarely last beyond a few dates with indifferent men. If you stand me up once, I won’t cover you with tar and glitter, but thrice? Sorry, guy, I can’t come out after all because I can’t seem to get my hair dry. I’ve had it under a dryer for two hours and somehow, it just keeps dripping. Oh, no, it won’t be dry next Tuesday either. Sorry.
A year ago, all that intolerance for apathetic men evaporated when I got involved with someone who devalued me utterly. I accepted every shard of hatefulness he had. I’ve got nothing but question marks about that one, but in many ways, the men who treasured me a decade ago protected me from my Machiavellian ex. I could bear being mistreated, but I couldn’t accept it, so I got out sooner than most do.
In a way, exquisite romances never end because their lessons and love are infinite. They become icons of the kind of relationship you deserve. The people I’ve loved have given me more in this tiny lifetime than I ever imagined I’d receive. I carry so many astonishing people with me.
Maybe they carry me with them, too. Maybe we all do.