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In Truth, I Assumed They Were Lying

I guess I always assumed people were lying when it came to love. Because how could a person make me feel better than I felt after a Sunday morning long run? How could a person bring me more joy than a fuzzy blanket, a new New Yorker magazine, and a steady supply of herbal tea? How could a person feel more magical than a plane ticket or a library card? Feel more like home than an apartment with your name on it?

I’m realizing now that if you’re really lucky, you might just find someone who makes you feel those things and more.

And so maybe you weren’t lying when you called them your best friend or talked about how they calmed you down when you were stressed about work. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

I used to think it would be nice to be with someone who challenged me. Someone who pushed me to be a better person. Someone who inspired me. Who made me happy. Who made me laugh. Who supported me and my goals. Who had playalong for adventures of grandeur and adventures of… silly. Who didn’t mind that I cry at happy movies and watch Jeopardy! like it’s a competitive sport.

Ah but that’s a lot to ask, no? And so you move through early adulthood thinking what you might compromise on. Because surely, you can’t get as lucky as people say. Surely that doesn’t really exist.

Or maybe it does. And maybe it’s worth the wait, the heartaches, the bad matches, the learning a whole lot about what you don’t want, helping you figure out exactly what you do want.

Almost a year ago, I started drafting this blog post that profoundly was set to begin with: Having a crush on someone is so wack man.

Many months later, I can confirm that that’s still true. And that there is a person who brings more joy than all the fuzzy blankets, New Yorkers, and herbal teas in the world combined.

And that wow y’all weren’t lying! I wish I could tell my younger self to be patient. I wish I could tell her to know her worth. I wish I could tell her that someday she would meet someone so kind and that someday everything would make sense. That she would be on the other side of the coin, writing a love story so beautiful that people might wonder if she’s lying. Dear reader, I’ve never written anything so honest.

There’s a million lifetimes I could live. There’s endless ways this thing could go. So I am forever grateful that in a world of uncountable possibilities, we found each other.


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