Am I hard to love? That’s a question I’ve asked myself a few times.
In fact, during one of my low points recently, I began to question everything about my being, so I turned to one of my best friends for some solace and asked for her opinion.
I bluntly questioned, “Am I hard to love?” She responded, “On the contrary, you’re easy to love.”
And while I wanted to believe that was true, coming off another failed attempt at sparking a substantial relationship caused me to doubt the validity of that statement.
A few nights later, my best friend and I started speaking a little further on the matter during one of our parked car conversations (my favorite).
She told me, “Bruna, you make me be a better person. You hold me accountable, so I step up because I never want to disappoint you, and I’m just your friend. Maybe guys feel that pressure, too?”
I knew what she meant, but even then, why am I being punished (or so it felt) for being the type of person who makes you, apparently, raise your standards?
Most of my epiphanies happen during solo car rides at night. I don’t know why, but whenever I’m cruising, my mind manages to put things into perspective. So, in this matter, an analogy was presented to me to help me better understand this idea.
What I’m assuming was my higher self spoke to me and said, “Bruna, imagine you are one of the rarest art pieces in the world that’s presented at a museum. People from all over come just to see you. They are in awe of you. They get as close as they can to experience your beauty and your being. Now, imagine that these people were able to take you home. Do you think they would all be up to the task knowing your value? Do you think they could handle the responsibility of knowing that the care of one of the world’s rarest pieces is now in their hands? Probably not. So, yes, many come as close as they can just to embrace in your energy, but not everyone is fit to call you their own. And that’s OK, because you want the one who recognizes the art that is placed in front of him, and is ready to care for it in a way that not only leaves it in pristine condition, but helps it become even more beautiful than when he first came upon it.”
Hmm. That made sense to me. Of course it’s a bit exaggerated, but it helped, because ultimately, I don’t want just anyone to take me home (figuratively and literally). I want the one who is going to treasure the value that I bring.
For the past six years, I’ve always been that girl who people look at and furrow their brows. “Why is she single?” I get that question all the time, and when they don’t get the answer that appeals to them, they then conclude that something must be wrong with me.
“She seems so great, I don’t understand it. Something must be wrong with her.”
Women who seem to have a lot going for them are often alone, because it takes a certain quality of man to be willing to be with her. Not because she’s picky or because she’s high maintenance, no.
It’s because we’ve created a fulfilling life for ourselves by ourselves, which means we don’t want a man who is going to come and try to save us. We don’t need saving. We just want a man who wants to love and build a life alongside of us, and while that sounds simple enough, it requires a man who is stable and secure enough within himself and within his life to be able to provide that. And that is also a rarity, because not many people are willing to put in the work to create a strong foundation.
So, am I hard to love? No, I don’t think I am. I think my friend was right. I’m easy to love, but from a distance, because the pressure of caring for a rare heart like mine can be overwhelming.
But you know what? I’m not sorry for that, because the one for me isn’t going to just come for a visit. He’s going to come ready with the tools to build a home.