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They say “Third time’s a charm,” yet that leaves me wondering: Who is “they”? and in what reference?  Because in my experience, especially in love, the third time has been anything but charming.

You see, I am a hopeless romantic and have a bit of an overactive imagination, which is great for writing, not so much for relationships.  Combine that with the dramatically romanticized television shows, movies, and books of our time and you’ve got a recipe for one hot mess of a love life.  I love love, I love seeing people in love, and I am, without question, capable of love.  While some argue that to be a good and even enviable quality, I find it to be a bit of a double edged sword.  The upside is pretty obvious, but as for the downside, well, that’s where things get a bit messy.

For six years I tricked myself (with the aid of a “gentleman”‘) into believing we had some magical “connection.”  So, we had an on again-off again, long distance, lacking all substance, but seriously there has to be something there relationship.  Not kidding, six years.  (I realize this either dates me, or you can’t believe my mom let me start dating at the tender age of 10).  It was as if he had some type of sonar/GPS/radar on my heart.  Each and every time I was in between a relationship, or a relationship was washing up at shore, lo and behold, there he’ be.  Either that or he was a total stalker.  Not even blocking his phone number kept him away, thanks to Facebook.  (Zuckerberg, you trying to ruin my life?).  This couldn’t be coincidence, right?  Of course not!  We were quite clearly very deeply connected!  So what if I don’t think he even knows what I do for a living and the only reason he knows my birthday is because he needed it to book a flight?  None of that matters when you and a person share an indescribable bond.  Therefore, I continued to let it play out.  Time and time again.  Even after swearing I’d never let it happen again.

Every time I’d see him, I was left in a puddle of tears when he’d leave.  Our latest installment, however, was, by far, the most dramatic.  Without going into details, I left the situation feeling totally humiliated, shocked, and somewhat depressed.  How was it possible that after all of this time, we could never manage to get things right?  Oh, silly, silly girl, here’s the thing: there was no “connection.”  All the going back and forth and showing back up in my life was merely a game to him.  Cause, guess what?  A guy who “knows” knows.  He doesn’t allow a near decade to pass without so much as a whisper of commitment. I was writing the next epic romance novel and he was playing a cheap game of cat and mouse.  I had successfully faked a relationship by allowing all the drama to cloud my judgement.  Drama doesn’t equate to love and passion.  Drama equals drama.  I’d painted this person out to be a Mr. Big, when all he really was was a Mr. Big Asshole.

Speaking of which, a recent study even proves that you can “fake” being in love and actually fall in love.  If that’s the case, I’m in love a few fellows at this very moment (call me).  And while I now know that there was never any connection, let alone love, I also know my phone will ring sometime in the near future with that same familiar number on the caller ID.  I certainly won’t be answering and I most definitely am not expecting him to show up in Paris to whisk me off my feet.

Better luck next time.

xx,

WhyDid