Ok, Fine! I’ll Admit It….. I Wanna Be in Love
By: Stella Luna, They She
Tags: Sex, LGBTQ, Relationships, Gender, Love

Ok, Fine! I’ll Admit It….. I Wanna Be in Love

You’d think I was Good Charlotte’s biggest fan from the way that I kept telling people, “I don’t wanna be in love.” I’ve always been the solitary type, and needing a relationship was just not my M.O. However, with each passing year, especially being on a college campus, seeing lovebirds linked arm in arm while they laugh about nothing made me more and more… envious. I thought it was just misplaced misanthropy (I was really messed up and depressed then… looking back, I cringe about my mental state), but it really was jealousy. It was so easy to discount love, to say that these people looked like idiots holding hands over a sloppy cafeteria table, looking so deep into each others’ eyes that I thought they’d fall into them. It was only when spring came every year and I saw couples who were really, really in love when I felt melancholic. It was like they were warming up spring and not the other way around, while I was still stuck in the winter chill. It could’ve just been the fluffy, enamored lyrical stylings of her Majesty, Carly Rae Jepsen pulsing through my bass-boosting headphones that colored everything rose-gold, but it just made how grey I felt even more apparent.

Photo by JD Mason on Unsplash

I used to honestly hate love. I never got it, the way people would stay up all night to talk to someone, hugging their phone to their chest like it was a person. I vaguely remember the feeling from when I had a partner in high school. I would do anything for them and couldn’t help smiling until it hurt every time I saw them in the halls. While not the same thing, having really close friends has also given me a taste of that level of devotion. It’s not the same kind of feeling as romantic love, but in my opinion, it’s just a different type of equal-strength emotion. I would still take a bullet for all my friends, even if they were the ones behind the gun. When I went to college though, a baby tran unsure of everything, it was like a switch flipped that turned me cold and calloused. What once was what gave my life meaning became just the reason that I felt life had no meaning.

The hormones I thought raged internally in high school were practically palpable in college. To be fair, I never really went out to parties in high school, so my exposure to party and hookup culture really started afterwards. As soon as I stepped into my first frat party, I knew the vibe was completely different than any other party I’d been to. Couples and strangers alike were kissing, profiles illuminated only by strobing colored lights, grabbing each other like the whole party was trying to pull them apart. People were grinding, giggling, sipping, spilling, and I felt not just like a fish out of water, but a fish on the top of the Empire State Building. Whenever I saw this, I secretly felt a bit superior, thinking that I’d never let myself be seen like that. I’d never get drunk and just kiss to kiss. I’d never get into an Uber with someone I’d never met before that night and get taken to their shabby apartment. I’d never get to see how they decorated their room, how their sheets smelled and felt, and how they touched on a body I felt would poison anyone who touched it. Of course, you see where this is going: I did want it, and I wanted it bad. I just never admitted it to myself.

Photo by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash

So, just like everything else that scared me, I stopped going to frat parties. I deleted the dating apps I downloaded to waste men’s time who swiped on me. Just feeling little more than desirable was enough for me. When you’re surrounded by so many beautiful, charismatic, and incredible women, it’s hard to feel like you can stack up when people don’t even see you as a woman. I felt like the old books I’d go to see in the library out of boredom and the desire to compensate for my lack of social interaction with some kind of “academia” (a.k.a. Checking out tons of books I was too busy/sad/bored to read until I had to return them). Well, I actually felt like the books next to the books I took out. Old, worn, torn, with the odor of something that has been in the same place for a long, long time. I knew if I started dating, I’d get immediately sniffed out as someone who hadn’t put myself out there at all. I felt defeated.

So, just imagine a couple more years of that, and here we are. Oh, I guess there was one time that I danced with a really pretty girl after dancing with a guy… But, besides that, there was really nothing. I think deep down, I wanted romance but didn’t feel the spark for it. That is, until I got a crush on some guy. He was tall, nice, and respected my identity. That should be the bare minimum, but honestly, the amount of guys who don’t see you as a guy is really slim. Instead of trying to get close to him, I did what every other wallflower, socially-anxious recluse would do. I got super nervous every time I was around him, said stupid things, and made fantasies about him in my head. I got jealous when I found out he was hooking up with someone. I finally understood the “man that’s not my man but is my man” memes, and it was honestly perturbing.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being in love, but I always thought I was impervious. Why is this man that I don’t even really know giving me butterflies? I’m not a greenhouse, but why is he making my heart grow? Even typing this, I’m cringing so hard. Rationally, I tried to keep up the wall that I’d had for so long. I had such a strong wall that I thought I was aro. This is not me saying that that’s not a real thing- it definitely is, and anyone who is aromantic and/or asexual can live an incredibly fulfilling life. Sex and romantic love are not necessary to live. I thought they weren’t something I’d ever want, but after putting together all the puzzle pieces of my college experience (or lack thereof), I knew that I wanted to date and experience sex at least once.

Photo by Arren Mills on Unsplash

The two things that stop me in my tracks when I try to even think about dating are my inability to be vulnerable and my body. Vulnerability has become a problem ever since I isolated myself. I lost the ability to connect with others. I feel more at ease among strangers than I tend to do with new friends. As long as I know what I should be doing, I’m ok. A relationship is the opposite of a job with set tasks. Yeah, there are some commitments and requirements, but otherwise, relationships are the most varied thing out there.

When thinking about my body, though, even getting past initial emotional vulnerability wouldn’t matter. If I want to have sex, at some point, they’re going to see me naked. When I drop off every bit of clothing, they’ll see what lies beneath all the layers I try to use to give my body a more flattering shape. They’ll see my greatest fears. I know that if and when that time comes, I’ll feel beyond naked. I’ll want to cry, and my head will probably hang down in shame. That white-hot embarrassment is exactly what I know I couldn’t stand. So, I just say that I don’t need a relationship. There’s always a piece missing, though, from my heart- connections that haven’t made themselves apparent yet.

Like I already said, I keep having a war in my head between my rational thinking and my feelings. I always thought songs that said that were so contrite and puerile, but I really get it now. I know that I don’t need a relationship. I know that sometimes I don’t even want one, and with all my baggage/transitioning I know that I’m definitely not ready for one. It just hurts, though, that I wasted all that time not dating because I was so unsure of myself and anxious that I felt like my life would be better serving others if I lived it indoors. I really thought of myself as a monster, incapable of being loved. I’m working on it, though, and even though I have more confidence now, I still think I’m miles away from feeling secure enough to go on dates. Beyond the safety risk, it just baffles me that anybody could want to spend time with me specifically. Being trans definitely plays a role, as the people who tend to interact with me either just want… a girl with something extra, or they call me a man. My pictures on dating sites look nothing like me, and my self-perception is fucked. I don’t know what other people would think of me. It’s just so frustrating to want to love and be loved but feel like that’s completely off-limits for me!