Tonight, I’m
disappointed.
I’m sad for the place
in life I’m at.
You see, I’m 26.
Not freshly 26. Oh,
no.
On the verge of
expiring 26.
And I, like the vast
majority of those willing to be vulnerable, longingly await a husband.
For years, the
expression of this desire has made me feel weak.
After all, am I only
a real woman with a man?
And doesn’t
expressing my intrinsic longing for deep, long-term connection make me a silly
girl who’s lost and misguided by her emotions?
Of course not.
But that’s how I
feel.
Dates don’t seem to
work out.
People who like me
don’t get me.
And people who get me
don’t seem to like me in a romantic way.
And the vast majority
are simply looking for a hookup in our throwaway culture.
But here I am.
Still wishing.
Still hoping.
Doggy-paddling for
dear life as to not drown in a self-made sea of despair.
And doing my
damnedest to not lose heart.
Unfulfilled
expectations.
Defeat.
Discouragement.
Deferred hope.
Disappointment.
So many words to
express one emotion.
Most of us try to
minimize moments of disappointment in our lives.
And I get it; I
really do.
But I can’t help but wonder, is that making us less compassionate?
Is it aiding in our
rapidly declining desire for these types of relationships?
(with significant
others or friendships or with our neighbors on the streets)
Is our attempt to not
look “weak” or not get hurt actually keeping us from experiencing the
inexplicable beauty of fully knowing each other?
Even as I bask in my
disappointment, I’m not angry at it, like I used to be.
I’m learning to
embrace it.
Because that means my
heart is still soft.
It means I’m not calloused
and accustomed to the ways of this world but instead, I am holding on to a hope
I cannot see, holding out for a promise that, though I doubt at times, I can’t
help but continue to believe for.
I want to still feel the weight of disappointment
when the next person comes and doesn’t stay.
I want to feel the
pain of the next promise someone breaks.
Not because I’m some
sadistic weirdo who enjoys the pain (unless it’s in the last few moments of a
workout).
But because I want it
to mean something.
I want to know that
my heart still places faith in people, in their promises.
That my heart still
hopes for the best in the midst of darkest dark.
That I am still
holding fast to the one thing that makes us indisputably human:
Hope.