Fuelled by Love

Fuelled by Love

by Ollie

I have been transfixed by the idea of falling in love for as long as I can remember. To rely on someone, to exist in parallels and share your life with someone. Who wouldn’t crave that level of intimacy in connection. When I was younger, I viewed my parents relationship as cannon. As a model to follow. To be partners with someone, best friends. I couldn’t wait to find someone who might complete me and improve me.

I had my own struggles with sexuality, but when I finally accepted myself, I realised I could still look for that, that gender is irrespective of a special connection. So I began my search. At first I would just look around me for someone who could fit that mould. I always had an idea of a silhouette of who they are, just not a face. Which allowed them to take many forms.

I would try my best to be palatable and attractive. Ask them questions, try to be funny, edit myself to be whoever they wanted. And it would work more often than not. To be able to change yourself based on who you're pursuing into what you think they're looking for. But it was never enough, no matter how good of an actor I thought I was, the cracks in the mask would show and the real me would peek through. The unappealing self. Too loud, too much, too desperate.

Soon after I moved to dating apps and discovered a new world of reinvention and a new scope, it was addictive. Swipe swipe, match, match. It was exhilarating. Like playing a slottie down the arcade. Or a drug. One was never enough and to have a roster in my dms felt like some kind of badge of honour. Take a look all the bullies and negative voices, I am attractive, I have worth.

Of course I swiftly discovered that they were not all they were cracked up to be. Whether it be catfishing, fizzling out or just incompatibility. An artificial, forced connection couldn’t quench my thirst for a genuine connection. Which really annoyed me. How can I have such rich and plentiful platonic friendships in my life but not find those same qualities in a partner. Surely I being as type A and high strung as I am cannot accept that.

I have spent many years thinking about love, what it means to me and where I can look for it in other avenues. Platonic love, self love, a love for the mundane and ordinary. Now as I get older I find myself not only seeking but seeing love all around me, as cliché as that sounds. I love nature, the way the trees sway and the sunlight streaming through them. I love my dog, who’s little smile can brighten up my day in a moment. I love my friends who took the time to get to know me, continue to make time for me and uplift me when I feel down. And finally, I love myself. I resonate with the same wonder and curiosity I was born with. I take myself on dates. I am not limited by not having my counterpart yet.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a perfect put together person, nor an iron unfeeling force. I welcome new connections into my life and as my friends know (too well) I’m no stranger to a redownload of tinder from time to time. But I do feel as though the desperation has subsided. As corny as it sounds I am enjoying the exploration of the relationship with myself. Every day I find out a new interest or avenue to go down. My thoughts drift down new passages and I can feel me coming into myself.

My newfound logic is simple, if I can learn to love myself, then perhaps other people will. Which isn’t to say the only reason I bother to build that relationship is to find a partner, but because I am the only partner who has bothered to stick around. The one who’s there for me when I’m down, or shows pride for my wins.  

My goal for the future isn’t to change myself, or even to find someone exactly like me. I just want to be okay with being alone — in case it never happens. Or rather, when I start dwelling on the absence of romantic love in my life, I want to remember that my life is already filled — no, fuelled — by love.

Coffee dates with friends are love. Walking my dog is love. Cooking for my family. Painting. Reading. Smiling.

My understanding of love has shifted, too. I still believe it’s a powerful force, and I still seek more of it, but I now see that each form it takes is unique and immeasurable.

For anyone reading this — or for myself, rereading — I want you to think about the love you already have in your life, even if you don’t recognise it at first. When you do, you’ll see that you’re not unlovable, or wrong. You already possess love, and you’re capable of even more.

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