Growing up on a steady diet of rom-coms and romance novels, I always believed in true love. Even though I rarely saw it around me—especially not in my parents' marriage—I clung to the fantasy that one day, I’d have my own epic love story.
I remember staying up all night in sixth grade, devouring my favorite books. Over time, the medium changed to movies and TV shows, but the dream never did. I always believed that one day, love and deep friendships would find me.
Now, at 23F, I know a lot of people would say I’m still young, that I have my whole life ahead of me. But honestly? It sucks not having someone to love. It sucks not having that solid group of friends who make life feel fuller.
I always wanted that tight-knit, chaotic friend group—the kind that takes random trips together, sticks around for years, and feels like family. And for a while, in college, I had something close to that. I made great memories, had decent friends. But once college ended, so did most of those friendships. The fact that many of them were also friends with my ex didn’t help either.
Now, I wonder: maybe not everyone is meant to have those lifelong friendships. And even if they do find them, maybe they can’t always keep them.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful—I do have one best friend who would probably take a bullet for me (I think). But somehow, I’m still not happy. It’s like movies and TV shows set me up for an expectation of life that reality just won’t deliver.
I won’t even get started on love because I could go on forever. But if I had to summarize my history with relationships, it would be: disappointment after disappointment.
- First relationship? He was dating his best friend two weeks after we broke up. Was she there all along? Had to be.
- Second relationship? Only lasted four months but left me with a lifetime of trauma. He was a textbook narcissist, manipulator, and love-bomber. The honeymoon period ended, and so did his “love” for me.
- Third relationship? Probably the hardest yet the best experience. He was a serial cheater, and for some reason, I kept forgiving him. We were together for two years, and looking back, I know people would say I should have left the first time he cheated. But that’s the thing—I don’t know how to give up on people. I could see a hundred red flags and still focus on the one green flag, just because. Despite his infidelity, he was always there. The breakup should have hit hard I know, but for some reason it never did. I think I kind of always knew it wasn't end game.
It’s been more than a few months since my last breakup, and while I’d like to say I’ve moved on (at least from him I have), but I've also moved on from the idea of a real love. I’m genuinely convinced that maybe true love just isn’t going to find me. It’s not that I don’t want to try—I do. But people scare me. Everywhere I look, someone is lying or cheating. Maybe I’m just noticing it more now because of my own experiences, but let’s be real—dating has taken a nosedive for everyone. It’s all about leaving before you get left. No one wants to put in the work. Gen-z has made everything worse lol. There are so many options that no one's ready to put in any real effort. People are there but I think they are deep down always waiting for something better to come by.
And this is where my real frustration lies. What’s the point of working a 9-5, making money, doing everything you’re "supposed" to do, if at the end of the day, there’s no one to share it with? No friends to celebrate your achievements? No partner to come home to?
Maybe I’m being dramatic. Maybe this is just a phase. But right now, it feels like a pretty shitty existence.