Can't Force Love
I oftentimes reflect on the girl I was when I first started this blog. So much has changed, and I’ve really molded into someone I can’t recognize sometimes. The new Iman is confident. The new Iman doesn’t have severe anxiety. The new Iman talks in the third person. I was able to learn so much about myself this last month. I’ve really let go of the mindset that I am not “allowed” to act or be a certain way. Doing whatever feels right. Trying new things. Not letting the haters hold me back. It’s been refreshing, yet so foreign. I feel as though I’m living in one of those young adult ABC sitcoms.
What’s really changed for me is the way I view romantic relationships. I used to worry often – the brown aunty on the inside kept screaming that I would never get married. The truth is I’m way too young, and not even slightly ready for marriage. I haven’t experienced anything! I haven’t made any mistakes! I need to end up with a Jack Pearson, and I don’t know anyone resembling Jack Pearson.
What I want: someone who makes time for me and genuinely cares about what I have to say, someone who makes sure I’ve made it back to my room safely, someone who cares about my friends as much as I do, someone who shows appreciation often, someone who calms me down, someone who is pure and good, someone who pushes me outside of my comfort zone, someone who supports me no matter what, someone who will listen to my rants, someone who is committed to making me happy.
A tall boy on my wavelength with a good sense of humor that makes everyday activities enjoyable. I’ve found glimmers of hope, yet no one has ever tried hard enough to be that person for me. I’ll listen to podcasts on how female CEO’s built their legacies, and they will always mention their husband who had their back the entire time. That’s what I want out of a partner. Consistency, stability, never-ending support. You know you’re getting old when your values shift.
Because of the newfound confidence I have in myself, I’ve realized that it’s okay to want more out of people. You don’t have to settle for the first boy who makes you feel some typa way. I’ve learned (the hard way) that you can’t make someone care about you no matter how hard you try. It doesn’t matter how many pretty dresses you wear or how many jokes you crack, you can’t make someone love you. I’ve come to learn that if they wanted to see you they would make the time. I've learned to stop reading into things that aren’t there. Everything is not a sign from god.