Love and the Pessimistic

I would say that since I was a wee lad, I have been able to see through a lot of the doodoo when it comes to love. I have vivid memories of teachers reading stories like Snow White and Cinderella and me laughing out loud. I was the 5-year-old girl that rolled her eyes at Disney movies. Never ever ever did I think that there was some ripped hottie on a horse coming to rescue me. So you can imagine how shocked I was going to college and realizing that there were young women who actually drank this Kool-Aid, basing their real adult love lives off of children's cartoons. The shock only grew as I entered my 30s where otherwise logical friends were telling me that not only did they believe that the fairytale was real, but that it was something they deserved! Now you tell me, how nutso is that?

You can call me a love pessimist and I would have to agree. Over the years, I have prided myself on this. I have friends who also value this quality in me, for I can see the love train wreck coming from miles away. So you tell me why that at almost 40, I feel myself slowly and slightly buying into the relationship bull like a toddler in a princess dress?

The change in me began when I started going to church. I entered the sanctuary believing that there is not someone for everyone and that only the most lucky of us get to live our lives happily with someone else. Now, one year as a Christian, I find myself crossing my fingers for a soulmate like the rest of the single ladies at the alcohol-free singles mixer, hoping Mr. Right decided to drop into a church dance. 

Ugh, that whole last paragraph is embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as how big of a fan girl I have become of shows like Married At First Sight and Love is Blind. I find myself on the edge of my seat, heavily invested in the relationships of people I don't know, praying out loud that their relationships work. For if there is hope for strangers who got engaged after never seeing each other, there is hope for an inherently negative person like me, right? 

No matter how hard I try to get rid of it, there is faith the size of a mustard seed that one day happiness will come knocking at my door. I want to get rid of it, not wanting to be disappointed by yet something or someone else, but this sliver of hope continues to burn eternal out of my reach. Let it be known that there is no bigger buzz kill than hopefulness.