Sometimes I worry that this spot has become a dating blog. I’m constantly ranting about how unhealthy my last relationship was while simultaneously alluding to the beginnings of a new one. I’ve spent a lot of time making fun of the awkward situations I find myself in when it comes to dating and even more time over-analyzing the process of falling in (and out of) love. It was never my intention that this space should become a space for me to poke fun at my inherent inability to flirt or that I should expose pieces of each and every guy I ever date (without their knowledge nonetheless) but yet it’s happened. If I want to over romanticize the situation I can say I’ve become a little like Taylor Swift. My relationships are out in the open, public to whoever wants a glimpse of them. On the days I’m not feeling so optimistic I worry I may have become one of the dreaded over-sharing overbearing beings that has come to haunt social media. The last thing I want my blog to resemble is that awkward whiny Facebook status that your friend of a friend posted about her baby daddy. Yet, at 22 years old, relationships are a large part of my life (and writing is too).
In the past I’ve always found myself as the more social being in my relationships (I know, shocker). The guys I dated seemed relatively uninterested in a social life outside of me once things became serious. Early on I always established that no matter how head over heels in love I was…I also needed friends to be happy. For the first time in my life the situation is a bit different. I have no real “social life” to speak of. In fact I spent my entire Sunday baking cookies and then topped it off by playing Scrabble with my Aunt and Uncle. I was happy. It was relaxing, it was low key, I didn’t wish for anything more. Yet, it felt odd reporting my laid back weekend to the Gatsby-esque object of my affection. While I was laying in bed eating pizza he was getting bottle service at fancy club with his friend group of 30. While I was merrily dancing to love songs in the living room as I folded laundry, he was brunching and tailgating and socializing. It doesn’t bother me that he craves more social interaction than I, in fact I actually find the value he places on his friendships incredibly attractive. Yet it worries me, despite the butterflies and the fireworks are we too different?
I can’t help but wonder…will my introverted tendencies eventually tear apart any chance we have at a relationship? Is it possible for an extrovert and an introvert to find happily ever after together? While I don’t consider myself a complete introvert, I like to go out sometimes, I like to meet new people occasionally. I worry that I come across as boring, antisocial and worst of all uninterested. It’s not that I have no interest in fancy parties and VIP treatment , in fact quite the opposite (pop the champagne!). When I’m dating someone I need a lot of one on one time. I need time to lay in bed together and eat thai food. I need time to vent about the stresses in my life and I feel left out if I don’t know the ins and outs of my significant other’s day to day highs and lows. In order to enjoy time in groups together I need to first experience time alone together. Is my new relationship doomed to end tragically as all Gatsby-an tales tend to?
It’s difficult to really make concrete decisions on matters of the heart. If both people truly care about each other a little give and take should be worth it in the end…right? Or do the best loves, the right loves begin when two like minded people just so happen to stumble upon one another? Whatever the answer, I think Fitzgerald nailed it once again, “there are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice“.