Do you believe in true love?

That “can’t get enough of you” love? Soul mate, ride or die, best friend, love of your life? “I want to tear your clothes off forever and ever” love? Does it actually exist, or is it make-believe? An idea that we were fed from birth?

Fall in love, settle down, get married, have children, they have children, you die. Happily ever after. 

Then why are love songs so sad? 

While you’re reading this, I want you to pause and reflect on this question. How many couples do you know who are happy? Like, really happy? They both accept each other for who they are. They haven’t compromised themselves or their own journeys to accommodate the relationship. They aren’t perfect by any means, but they are at peace with each other. You look at them and can’t help but smile and say, “I love them together.” I’m not talking about the Instagram couples who have carefully curated feeds cause that shit is not real life. Real life couples. Happy. 

Now, how many did you get? 

Statistics say that 50% of marriages end in divorce. So, what’s your answer? 5? 10, maybe? Or is it like the Sasquatch, a Canadian folklore creature that people swear exists but no one has actually really seen? 

I’m a hopeless romantic, at least I used to be. There’s nothing I wanted more in life than to give all this love to someone else and receive a portion of it back (just 10% would be lit af).

Up until recently, I was seriously convinced that I would reach “happy land” when I would find “my person.” My human. My love. My one and only. We would be 90 years old on a boat in Italy with a bumper sticker that says, “Spending our kids inheritance.” He would be rubbing my butt while listening to 90s r&b and we would laugh. Oh, we would laugh so much. and troll our children on whatever social media will exist in the future. 

Happily ever after. 

This dream of mine has caused me more hurt than anything because I’ve held on to this belief that this person exists when they might actually not. These expectations of what love looks like has caused me to accept people and behaviors into my life that shouldn’t even be in my space. Love vultures, I call them. They come and take all my love and energy, then abuse it, break my heart, and I’m left empty. Broken, wondering if I’m even worthy of love (which reminds me, I really should tip my therapist).

“Fuck love,” I said recently while drunk at a bar with a friend. Fuck it. Fuck all of it. It’s a figment of our imagination. It’s fake news. What’s the point when it hurts so much?

Today while driving to a gig and listening to sad love songs. I asked myself again,

Does true love exist? 

While at a red light. I looked in the car mirror and saw my reflection. I saw my 37 years of life (or more like 27, thank god for Botox). I saw a human being that loves so hard and loves so deep that anyone would be so lucky to even get a taste. I saw a perfectly flawed woman who has accomplished so much in life and has overcome so much pain. A woman who has time and time again risen from the ashes of fire like a phoenix. 

A fucking phoenix. 

“I’m a phoenix, goddamn it,” I yelled at a poor cyclist at the red light. Since I was in NYC, he was unfazed by it and gave me a thumbs up. 👍🏾  

I am love. I am surrounded by love. I have love. I was put on this earth to spread LOVE. Every move I make, every thing I do, everything I write – like this nonsense of a post – is with so much fucking love. I don’t really know how else to be and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

True love absolutely exists. It’s within you, it’s within me, and it flows all around us. If only we all understood this, the world would be such a better place. When YOU (or me in this case) realize that, you will absolutely live happily ever after. 

Love, 

Lynn