One day, I will fall in love again. It won’t be tomorrow or next week, but it will happen, eventually. And when I do, I plan to fall madly, passionately, unabashedly, head-over-heels in love—AGAIN.
I’m saying again because I already felt that way once. I’m positive that I already had a great love in this lifetime—but just because I did doesn’t mean I can’t have another one.
I’ve been so resistant to even just the thought of finding new love and I think I’ve finally figured out why. While I didn’t want to settle for someone that would make me feel less than I did for him, I was more scared that I might actually find someone who would make me feel MORE. I was convinced that my past relationship was more epic than everyone else’s—or at least right up there with the greats. (Think Romeo and Juliet, Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, Carrie and Big, etc.) I still am. I guess only time will tell whether I’m right or wrong… But now I know that it doesn’t even matter.
I don’t know what it’s going to be like next time I fall in love. It might be just as great, or it might just turn out to be beyond-my-wildest-dreams-GREATER. But whatever it may be, it’s not going to rewrite history and change how much I felt for great love # 1.
That’s not necessarily bad for great love # 2 or 3 or so on…
I didn’t say all those things because I’m not over him, but because I have finally accepted that it’s over between us. FINALLY.
I admit, I’m not totally over him—but I’m getting there. I say that not in a pathetic, self-soothing manner, but in an honest to goodness HOPEFUL way. I think a nudge in the right direction might be all I need at this point.
I know there might still be a handful of wrong men the universe will throw in my direction before I get to be with THE ONE, but I look forward to them all. I’m just so excited to feel something for someone else again.