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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2170619-One
by mnflc
Rated: E · Chapter · Romance/Love · #2170619
the beginning of a true love story.

I always wanted a love story. Something I could talk about for hours with a sparkle in my eye. I always wanted something I could write about. I wanted a love story which was worth talking about. I wanted all the silly romantic gestures, love letters and flowers. I wanted slow dancing on Billie Holidays songs, drinking champagne on a Sunday evening, having a long conversation on a bench in a park. Coming late to work just because you couldn't leave the bed because he was there, and you made love the whole night. I wanted everything that sounded even a little bit cheesy. I wanted true love. But that was a hard task considering me being an introvert and always minding my own business. Getting older hadn't given me the hope of ever having one. Being 24 years old in a big city, not working on weekends was a dream. But I enjoyed staying at home on a Saturday night. I drank wine, listened to the old music or read old pages of the books from the shelf. I had an ordinary boring office job. But I was payed enough to live alone, have a small car and even go out which, like I said, wasn't really how I spent the most of my time.

I never let anyone really come near me. I learned that people who love you the most, also hurt you the most, so I have decided not to give anyone the power of hurting me. Or loving me. I never got hurt myself, but I was quite a good listener. I didn't trust people. I have always imagined the whole situation happening in my head, even the ending, and it always went the wrong way. So, I tried to stay away from everything that had a slightly chance of not ending great.

I was always the one who listened. My friends would call or text, if they had a problem. I would drive to them, make tee and try to make them feel a little bit better. If it was a big one, I would stop on a gas station on my way to buy a box of chocolate, snacks and a big package of tissues. I always got a tiny smile even tough tears were rolling down their face. Then I would listen to everything that made them sad in the moment. They would feel better and I would be happier about my decision not to let anyone in. People are very selfish creatures. They don't really love you for who you are. They love who they are when you are around. The love how you make them feel. They love the fact that someone is always there for them. It is all about the interest. People love the feeling that you give them. Even if you make them happy, that's why they love you. People are very selfish.

I was single for a very long time. Maybe I was also scared that I am not ready not to be single anymore. Maybe I just got really used to be alone, so I wasn't sure how to even be in a relationship. I loved the freedom. I enjoyed coming home late, not having to text anyone, being able to make plans on my own. I truly enjoyed every single moment of my freedom. And I am not even lying. I dated, but on the first look I was sure that the guy wasn't going to give me the true love story that I always wanted. So, even if they did text me the next day, I wouldn't answer. I feared death, I didn't want to waste my time on something that wasn't going to work anyway.

But all of that changed when I met him. And that's usually how the real love story starts...

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2170619-One