Love

I push back with both hands. I have been standoffish since I learned what the pain of being broken hearted felt like. There is no convincing me that it will ever be different when there is just no such thing; all my experiences lead me down different roads but ultimately take me to the same old cabin of hurt. Notches line the fence post of the ones that had brought me there before. I don't want to be in love, I tell myself. I watch horror movies hoping for my exhilarations to bubble forth from fear and gore and the macabre. Today was different though. Today I needed to just be in love, a different love with a different road that might take me somewhere else. I'm weakening my resolve and it's such a shame because I feel less attractive than i ever have before, no one wants this. I get so angry at the arrogance of Mr. Darcy and then fall over for his resolve and his loveliness and then (fuck) it hits me like a ton of ribbons, Mr. Darcy was for Jane Austen. He was her desire put to paper. People who write books with these stories that just burrow into your secrets are really writing for themselves and thereby extending the fantasy for the rest of us love-poor, lonely twits. We want the man that tries/tried. The ones that have done it did it because they wanted something from me and when they got it the game abruptly ended then, a clear winner defined and the loser left standing there, car keys in hand with a stupid look on their face (usually me). 

My furnace broke today. When the repairman came in I was disgusted with the cavalier way he tracked muddy snow all over my carpet on his way around my living room checking the registers. I refused to get up from the couch citing how absolutely fucking freezing I was (which I was) and at one point he was going into my bedroom and then just stopped. Is this a meet-cute? Hardly. Was he even cute? I honestly couldn't tell you. Do I wonder if he would have fucked me had I asked? Yes, I do. 

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood
I know I could, always be good
To one who'll watch over me

There is that saying "if you hear fireworks, bells ringing and birds singing you should probably have your ears checked." 

I'm trying to let it go a little. In the movies they want you to experience "suspended disbelief." I feel as though I should try to in parts of my real life as well. If this is Gods way of showing me to have faith then...good move dude. It's going to be the new year very soon and I am turning 30 a little bit after that and I just want to find some equilibrium between my heart and my skepticism. The latter hasn't let up in so long that my heart is like a Woody Allen character at this point. Retreat rebecca, retreat. This is a losing battle but the war for love is far from lost. I need to change my tactics and stop pretending I am not making myself vulnerable in the most unattractive way: by being a bitchy girl. 

The truth is: I do like the challenge, I'm not afraid of work but I want someone who loves me so much and cares about my day and what I'm feeling and thinking and couldn't stand to be indifferent towards the menial if it was something I cared about. Where are you?