The Hopeful Romantic

It’s rare that this one gets sappy, but once in a while, she will surprise me. Like earlier today, when she sent me a beautiful and hope-filled few words that ended with “I hope you get to be with […] someone who fights for love the same way you do.”

Beautiful, and timely. Because I had been writing the following, which I set aside as soon as the rage began to roll in 24 hours ago (thanks, Monthly Hormonal Adventures! You really are a gift). Oy Sisters! What happens to you 24 hours out? I lose hand-eye coordination and my fuse gets super short.

Now that the rage is once again at bay, I can pick up where I left off.

Which is how important it is to be with someone who goes after and believes in love with the same purity as ourselves. The flip-side of which is if you don’t pursue love with purity and grace, then you shouldn’t be graced with those who do, but rather with those who meet you for what you bring to the table and not an ounce more.

For those of you who have lived here long enough, you know that I really have always been a hopeful romantic. I love love, and I love being in love. I love it so much, I have found new and exciting ways to make different mistakes, y’all. Dancing emoji.

Really and truly, I have been in love twice in my life, once in my 20s, and once in my 30s. Two extraordinary men, still. Some others, I may have loved, but not been in love with; others still, I had hoped to love, but never did (and regarding these ones, I tried far harder than I should have. But like I wrote, I love love). Each one, I approached with a huge, and vulnerable heart. As Laurence once said so perfectly, I am put on this earth to love. This is my purpose. I have always known it, but have never heard it so bluntly from another.

And this reality, it brings both wonderful things and shitty things. In exactly the same way having an infant toddler would, I imagine.

Last I put it this heart of mine to the test was in November of 2018. Only, unlike the many times before last November, I kept her protected. I didn’t let her drop. AlhamduliLah, she, with her ability to be so open and vulnerable, was still all there. (As for the man himself – he remains absolutely wonderful. But timing.)

An important point here – I will always and only use (and argue for) hopeful, rather than hopeless romantic. Especially when more often than not, we are witness to, or are wounded at the hands of a breakdown of trust and kindness, and when there becomes a need to label the without-addab behaviours (because other humans are neither your play-thing nor a pastime, fam) so prevalent today (consider: ghosting, benching, orbiting, etc). My married friends, even the miserable ones, have all said at one point or another I would never want to be on today’s dating scene. Of course not. It’s nine times out of ten a total shit-show. But in this shit-show, I still have hope.

Because all you need is to hit gold once. Just once. Find your person who loves you the same way that you love them. Someone who brings you peace and reassurance after all of the trauma and let-downs.

As one great poet once wrote –

that we
in love
is an untruth.

there is only


That poet is me. And this belief will be as strong as that poem until the day I leave dunya, single or coupled-up. May it be the same for you.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. The B Sides. Frankly, it’s where the best music is to be found.
2. Libra season being officially upon us. I am really very excited for my birthday, and she is comin’ ’round the mountain. A shout out to all my Libra sisters; don’t ever forget that we are of the four cardinal signs.
3. Omar calling me from Montreal after he had a Schwartz’s sandwich to yell into the phone about how good it was and I AM GOING TO GO GET ANOTHER ONE DO YOU WANT ME TO BRING YOU ONE OHMYGOD I MELTED! I mean, you gotta love this man’s excitement about the simple pleasures of this world. May he continue to always find such joy in all things, ya Allah.

Ottawa | Day 303 | September 29, 2019

Comments closed.