AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I apply a thick coat of mascara as my mind wanders back to my sad previous attempts at love.
My dating life seems like a parade of human clowns. There had been Tom, the commitment-phobe, who disappeared the second things started to get serious. Then, there was Jack, the overbearing control freak, who tried to micromanage every part of my life. And let's not forget Eric, the charmer, who had been charming a lot of other women at the same time.
And then, there was the most memorable of them all,Gary.Gary, who insisted on singing everything – and when I say everything, I meaneverything– from placing an order at a restaurant ("I'll have the chicken parmigianaaaaaa...") to talking about his day at work ("Stuck in meetings, all day long..."). I guess I should have taken it as a sign when his preferred method of communication was in the form of a Broadway musical.
I can't help but laugh at myself.
My romantic life is a shit show.
And if I'm being honest, sometimes it's easier to have walls up than to face myself. To face the fact that I haven't gotten this whole 'love' thing right yet.... that I'm an utter fucking failure when it comes to that part of my life.
Work? No problem.
I'll run circles in an office all day long.
I know my shit.
But love? Relationships?
Cringe.
I apply a bold red lipstick, trying to convince myself that I'm confident in my dating skills.
"You're confident," I tell myself. “You deserve love."
For a moment, I allow myself to believe it. I am worthy of love. I am worthy of someone who sees me for who I am, someone who is there for me, someone who... cares for me.
As I stare at my reflection, my mind floods with memories of my childhood and of my father—or more truthfully, the absence of him.
I was only seven when he passed away. A truck accident, out of nowhere. My mom and I were left behind in a world that suddenly seemed too big, too harsh to handle. My mom did her best to pick up the pieces, working long hours and many jobs to put food on the table for us. But as hard as she tried, there were things she couldn’t fill—the aching void that my father’s absence had left behind.
I missed having him tuck me in at night, his rough hands smoothing my hair as he told me stories of knights and dragons. I missed having him there to scare away the monsters under my bed, his strong presence a comfort in my world. But most of all, I missed the sense of safety and being cherished by the most important man in my life.
Over the years, I built a wall, brick by brick, around my heart. It was easier than admitting that the lack of a male figure in my life was something that fucked me up. It was easier than confronting the pain of him being gone, the fear of abandonment that his death had left behind.
And so, what did I do?
The only rational thing to do, of course.
I became closed down and cynical when it came to men.
Allowing them in felt like betrayal, like I was allowing the possibility of that same devastating loss happening all over again. The risk of opening up, of experiencing intimacy only to lose it again is enough to make my mind explode.
My father's death taught me how to survive, how to be independent. But when it comes to love, relationships, and intimacy... it feels like a language I never got a chance to learn. A language I'm still struggling to understand.
As I reach for my curling iron, I look even deeper at my reflection. I look into my eyes, and I see a woman who is trying too hard. A woman who's trying to convince herself that she's okay with being lonely, that she doesn't need anyone to make her feel complete. As I wrap a strand of hair around the iron, I can't help but think of Logan.
Those deep brown eyes, that cocky smile, that ridiculous ability to get under my skin... Why is it that I can't get him out of my head? I try to remind myself of who he is: a man who isn't capable of anything serious.
Yet, no matter how hard I try, I find myself drawn back to him. The way he looks at me, the way he challenges me, the flirting, the tension between us—it's driving me crazy. I finish curling my hair and put the iron down.
I walk over to my closet and start looking for the perfect dress.
Hmm. I want to look good but not too good.
Casual but not careless.
Attractive but not provocative.
