I never thought I would become bitter and jaded about love. And I'm still not, not really. But I've definitely become more hesitant and reluctant to pursue it.
I remember in my youth how I would fall in love. How it would be this all encompassing obsession, rife with romance and imaginings and poetry. How I could so fully believe and embrace
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P.S. Bottom line = you can have both. . . but it doesn't tend to look like what one expected or was looking for when younger. You have a list of must-haves, non-negotiables. . . and then someone comes along and you tear up that old list and rewrite a new one to fit that person.
How do you know? I don't know, I just know you do. Can you be wrong? Sure. There's a fine line of "feeling secure" and "anything can happen in life." And no one size fits all.
Me, I now find "comfort" -- in all the myriad definitions of that word -- to be my idea of romance, far more than candllelit hormones dozens of roses champagne chocolates thongs and sweaty sexual gymnastics.
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