Many Wrongs Don't Make it Wrong

In my youth, I was far more reckless with my heart than today. On a regular basis I took blind leaps of faith in to relationships with men who hadn’t earned my loyalty or admiration. Every single time it was a mistake. I don’t necessarily begrudge this list of undeserving, unmemorable boyfriends for what was really my own series of haphazard decisions. The truth is, I loved being in relationships. I was good at them. I loved having a strong man’s arms around me, a steady Saturday night date, someone to shop for on Valentine’s Day and someone to care for when they were sick. But they didn’t love me back and I missed the signals. No, I didn’t miss them, I ignored them. Without a second thought I forgave unreturned phone calls, cancelled plans, and broken promises. I made excuses for these inexcusable men-boys to my best friends, my concerned parents and worst of all: to myself.

As I got older and (I can’t believe I’ll actually say this,) benefited from more break ups under my belt, I changed. It wasn’t overnight and it isn’t always terribly obvious. I still love the idea of love, and I probably give men the benefit of the doubt far too early in relationships, and I still believe that love is out there waiting for me. I remain open to it, certain that it exists and that I deserve to find it. I remain wide open to it in that I refuse to allow any past experiences with Mr. Wrongs to wrong someone else. I might have baggage – we all do – but I’m careful to keep mine tucked neatly in the overhead compartment, only to be accessed when I’ve reached the right destination and I’m sure that no one in the cabin can be hurt by items that might have shifted during flight.

I guess what I find most amazing in this personal journey is how many people out there who don’t share my value for precautionary measures. They leave their bags wide open for all to see their personal affects, dirty laundry, and taboo items for relationship rides that will ultimately stall their own journeys and worse, delay their fellow passengers. Then there are others who keep their valises so tightly locked that even the most skilled in security are unable to access them. It makes me wonder what was so terrible, so traumatic, and so paralyzing that these people can actually live with depriving themselves of their inherent human right to love and be loved in return. I’m sure some of them were like the old me: betrayed too many times, trusting of too many sinners, and insincere about their own role that they played in their resulting unhappiness.

And so today, instead of finding in me the capacity for blind love, you’ll instead find the capacity for love that is warranted. You’ll see the ability to find love that is real and love that is nothing more and nothing less than the over-glorified, simple concept of just plain love. Because it is my basic human right to look for it, find it, nurture it and protect myself from it when it is just plain wrong.