— Jordan Wjl.
— Jordan Wjl.
You know what’s amazing?
It seems like the entire time in high school all I did was try and look for love.
I dated many people.
I’m glad I dated who I did because each person made me grow a little more.
And finally through all the hurt and heartache
I finally found my love.
The feeling he gives me is just so amazing.
I started my high school years searching everywhere for love but I’m ending it with my true love.
I finally found my love.
Today was a fairytale
I grew up believing in fairy tales. I believed in prince charming and happy endings. I believed that my first kiss with the person I truly loved was going to create fireworks in my head.
It didn’t take me long to realize this wasn’t reality.
The things girls watch in movies and read in books, these perfect men who somehow know exactly what to say and what to do are imaginary. They don’t exist. No one is ever going to ride up on a white horse and proclaim their love for me. No one is going to find a boom box and blast Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” outside of my bedroom window after a fight.(And not just because it’s very hard to find a boom box these days). No one’s going to sit in front of me and tell me they broke up with their old girlfriend after reading poetry and didn’t want to “tend to [their] hours.” But that’s because my boyfriend will never be John Cusack or Jesse Eisenberg.
Real life isn’t scripted.
As a writer I can give my leading men long winded monologues to tell their loved ones how much they love them. I can make him the best dancer in the entire world, the most charming, the most gorgeous. His flaws can be that he thinks too much of others before himself. He can look at my leading gal and see through the insurmountable flaws that surround her. He can tell her he loves her in a romantic setting and she can say it right back.
But I can’t give my boyfriend a script.
He’ll say what he wants to say. Anything romantic he does will come from him, because he feels like it. He’ll call me cute more than beautiful. He’ll make fun of how short I am compared to him and tickle me relentlessly just to hear me laugh. He’ll feel so comfortable around me that he starts to goof off.
Because that’s what love is.
It’s not the fireworks or knights in shining armor. It’s not a perfect first kiss.
Love is feeling yourself burn inside when he kisses you for the first time because you can’t believe he just did that. Love is wondering if he even liked the kiss because even if you are experienced you’ve never kissed him before and, you know, you’re never quite sure where your noses go. Love is feeling the drop in your stomach when you’re not quite sure if you can even be in a relationship. Love is feeling the rush of adrenaline when he tells you that he loves you for the first time, because you know that it wasn’t easy to say.
Love is messy and imperfect. It hurts like hell and forces you to think. Love brings two people together closer than they were probably ever meant to be. Love leaves no room for personal space. Love is strong enough to break down walls you’ve built up for 19 years. Love is experience and newness. Love is trying new things and seeing if they work. Love is beautiful in its rarest form. Love melts hearts and attaches people at the hip.
Love is cuddling together in bed for the night. Love is a surprise kiss during a kissing scene in a movie. Love is pouring water into his mouth but then “accidentally” missing and getting his entire face soaked. Love is when he tries to use your face as his towel.
So I don’t see fireworks when he kisses me. I don’t expect him to serenade me one night with a song he’s written for me. I know I’ll never see a white horse or a damn boom box. But I’m okay with that.
Because I have something better than fireworks.
I have a home.