When Affection Feels Like Something I Can’t Afford

Chapter 1When Affection Feels Like Something I Can’t Afford

Honestly, I envy people who are able to date.

People who can talk to someone they like, get close to them, fall in love, and casually say, “I love you too.”

Why?

Because I fucking can’t.

And it’s not because nobody wants me.

That’s probably the most confusing part.

People have approached me. Plenty of them. People my age, people who are my type, people who aren’t my type, and even people who aren’t my age. It has happened on more occasions than I can count.

And most of the time?

I turn them down.

Then people judge me for it.

Some think I’m being difficult. Some think I’m playing hard to get. Others think I’m stubborn. And apparently, some people have decided that I’m simply not romantic.

Maybe from the outside, I understand why they think that.

But they don’t know what happens inside me.

When someone approaches me with romantic intentions, I don’t suddenly feel excited or flattered the way I imagine I’m supposed to.

I become fearful.

Anxious.

Uncomfortable.

Weird.

Awkward.

Sometimes I feel threatened, even when the person hasn’t actually done anything threatening.

I don’t always have the right words to explain it.

I just know that something inside me changes.

And then I say no.

Sometimes I feel absolutely nothing afterward. I don’t care, and I move on.

Other times, I feel guilty.

Because I know there is another human being on the other side of my rejection. Someone who might have genuinely liked me. Someone who might have been hoping I would say yes.

And I hate the thought of hurting someone simply because I couldn’t give them what they wanted.

The irony is that affection itself isn’t something I dislike.

Actually, I think affection is beautiful.

Not only between couples, either.

Between friends. Between family members. Between people who genuinely care about one another.

Affection can be caring. It can be loving.

It can feel safe.

So why does something I believe is beautiful sometimes feel so strange when it is directed at me?

I don’t know.

I’ve been dealing with this for years. I think I first started noticing it when I was in secondary school, around my second year.

And somehow, years later, I’m still trying to understand myself.

Because the truth is, I crave the very things I keep pushing away.

I crave love.

Attention.

Affection.

Friendship.

I want to feel cared for. I want emotional support. I want someone who understands me. I want to feel safe with another person.

I want peace.

I want happiness.

I want the kind of relationship where you don’t have to constantly wonder whether you’re loved because you can feel it in the way you are treated.

I want someone who can support me emotionally and physically. Someone who can be there when life is beautiful and when it isn’t.

I want all the beautiful things love is supposed to bring.

So, yes, I want love.

I just can’t seem to accept it from just anyone.

And maybe that’s what people don’t understand about me.

I can’t fake loving someone.

If I know in my heart that I don’t want someone, I can’t force myself to pretend just because they’re nice to me or because they want me.

I can’t say, “I love you too,” when I don’t feel it.

Maybe that’s cruel.

Maybe it’s honest.

I don’t know.

I just know that I have always felt like my heart was made for one person.

One person I actually want.

One person I don’t have to convince myself to love.

One person whose affection doesn’t make me want to run.

I sometimes wonder if that’s even realistic.

Because what if I finally meet someone I genuinely love?

What if everything I’ve been imagining suddenly becomes real?

I want someone who is emotionally mature. Someone who understands me. Someone who can love me and care for me no matter what.

Someone who might look hard on the outside but is soft underneath.

Someone who can be silly with me.

Someone who can act like a child sometimes without being embarrassed about it.

Someone who can talk about his feelings.

Someone who feels safe enough to cry in front of me.

Because I want to comfort him too.

I want to take care of him. Pamper him. Make him laugh. Play around with him. Be stupid together.

I don’t just want someone to take care of me.

I want to be a safe place for someone too.

I want us to be able to see each other’s weakest moments without thinking less of each other.

And when I imagine the future, I don’t imagine myself going through relationship after relationship.

I imagine one person.

The same person I date.

The same person I marry.

The same person I build a home with.

Sometimes I imagine us having two children.

Our own little home.

Our own little family.

A life filled with love, peace, happiness, stupid arguments, laughter, ordinary days, and all the little things that don’t look important until you realize those little things are your life.

I imagine growing old with that person.

Until death do us part.

Maybe that’s why I don’t think I can afford to love carelessly.

Because I know myself.

If I love someone deeply, I don’t think moving on would be easy for me.

But there’s another fear I don’t talk about as much.

What if I disappoint him?

What if one day the love or physical attraction isn’t there anymore?

What if my feelings change?

What if my emotions become too much for him?

What if he gets tired?

Not tired of spending money on me.

Not tired of doing things for me.

I mean tired of loving me.

Tired of taking care of me emotionally.

Tired of trying to understand me.

Tired of dealing with the complicated parts of my heart.

That scares me.

I don’t want to become a burden to someone.

I don’t want someone to stay because they feel obligated to take care of me.

I don’t want to be the reason someone breaks apart.

I don’t want to be the reason someone cries.

I don’t want to be someone’s pain.

And honestly, I don’t completely understand why I feel this way.

It’s complicated.

Maybe one day I’ll understand it.

Maybe I won’t.

But I do know one thing.

I still hope.

I hope that someday, somehow, I’ll meet my Mr. Right.

And when I do, I hope I won’t feel that fear.

I hope I won’t panic.

I hope I won’t run.

I hope that when he stands in front of me, something inside me will finally feel safe enough to say,

This is the one.

And maybe then I’ll finally understand why I had to turn so many people away.

Maybe my heart wasn’t rejecting love.

Maybe it was waiting for something that felt right.

I don’t know if that’s how any of this works.

But I hope it does.

Because somewhere inside me, beneath all the fear and confusion, there is still a girl who wants a small, beautiful family.

A home.

Love.

Peace.

Happiness.

And someone to share it all with.

Maybe someday.