I love “love”. I love loving people. I love seeing people in love. Love makes me happy… to the point that I crave it. I crave relationships. I crave love. Now, psychiatrists would say, “Oh, you must have had absent parents so you try to fill that craving for love from guys.” This, my friends, is a HUGE misinterpretation. My parents – my family – have always been there for me and loved me with every morsel of their soul. You see, I’m just a romantic. It’s as simple as that. And that’s OK. It’s actually caused a lot of heartache, but it’s still OK. There’s never really been a season in my life where I’ve been content with being single… until now.
I have spent my life pouring my talents, gifts and heart into guys who are quick to receive them but fail in returning any of their hearts or talents back into me. This probably sounds tremendously selfish, but it’s not. In relationships, when I break up with a guy, it’s because I feel like he has stopped caring. That’s been the only reason for any of my break-ups. I have painted so many pictures for male friends (also known to me as ‘prospects’). I’ve made them cards. I’ve done sketches of things that I know are special to them. I've made endless mixed CD's for them. Honestly, I feel like that’s all been wasted time and heart. Maybe they treasure the things I’ve made for them – but how silly is it of me to have already given away so much of myself to guys who won’t be the man that I spend the rest of my life with? I hadn’t even made my best girl friends paintings until I had found that I was completely content in this season of singleness.