How Did I Become Cynical, and How Do I Beat It?

Somewhere between re-applying sunscreen for the millionth time at the swimming pool and pouring myself a glass of Recess to calm all five bazillion of my nerves, I wondered if I was becoming cynical. It’s no secret that I’ve experienced a significant amount of trauma in my lifetime, but does that trauma need to affect the rest of my life? Including my love life? Am I forever doomed to be alone because of it? Could I ever truly love or trust again?

I remember falling into what I thought was love at eighteen with the man who would become my husband… and then later my ex-husband. I was constantly willing to take his phone calls, I answered his letters back quickly when he was deployed, I responded to texts promptly, and I never played games when he wanted to see me. I never hesitated. Maybe that was part of the problem and why we ended up divorced. Maybe I secretly always loved the long distance. Honestly, who knows?

I remember my boyfriend in high school. The same thing happened there. I was at his beck and call, I loved being in his presence, I enjoyed his company, and I found it reasonable and enjoyable to compromise. Dating after my marriage, though, felt like a chore, and I was hardly willing to compromise or be understanding about nearly anything. Then I met someone who opened me up to the possibility of dating again, and even though it ended with him, it led me to someone who could be considered a great love. Hardly my definition, but by evidence, it seemed that’s what it was.

After that ended and more trauma months later, I think I built a brick wall as tall as the Great Wall of China is long. But was I now cynical? How had cynicism crept up on me without me ever seeing it coming? It almost seems like a possession, and maybe I had become possessed... and maybe slightly obsessed with swearing off men. My best friend Jake tells me that even with me swearing off men, someone out there will eventually catch up to me.

Well, not to prove him right or anything, but someone did catch up to me last summer. Moved in, got comfy, talked rings, weddings, and moving back home to his family in Michigan. Well, a few side chicks later, and alcoholism programs with the Army, I was out. Don’t mind the loaded guns in my face and the hand around my throat when I said “What?” because I didn’t hear him one night in bed.

Shortly after that, I met a man who I thought I could love, and I agreed to marry him. I bought the wedding dress, and the date was set for January of 2024. I even bought shoes, and we had a ring picked out. Come to find out the bastard was still legally married, even though he moved me into his house and his wife was living in Maine. Go figure, right? With the divorce papers ready, I was prepared to stay. Well, that was until I found myself curled up in a ball in the corner of my office, shaking, while pushing him away because he told me it was stupid of me to be scared of him after throwing a wine bottle at me twice, screaming at me for the last hour even though it was me who caught him sexting with another woman while he was supposed to be in the shower. But honestly, because I didn’t love him, it was just a conversation we needed to have. Were we going to have a loveless and sexless marriage? Or would it be open? We did discuss that possibility. Well, that was until the wine bottle got tossed a few more times, and I was being forced into his arms on the office floor because he said it would be stupid of me to be afraid of him.

So, is my cynical outlook on men and love justified? Absolutely. But how do I end it then? Do I just snap my fingers and say, okay, all done, I’m ready to find love again? I can feel myself laughing at the thought, bear with me. What happened to romance? Was it possible that I had been romanticized in the past by other people who weren’t the main characters in my story, and I was so cynical that I refused to see it? Most likely. It is possible that the best thing I could do for myself is to forgive myself.

Forgive myself for settling for a potential loveless marriage. Thank God that wine bottle got thrown. Forgive myself for divorcing my abusive ex-husband. What was I ever thinking? But if I had never gotten married, I would not have my best friend now, my daughter. Forgive myself for letting a love go in Alaska and not trying harder to save him, not reaching out to him to discuss it later on. I always thought if he wanted to talk to me, he would contact me.

Forgive myself for… and here is where it gets tricky. If I say I forgive myself for loving too hard, trusting too quickly, or falling too hard, then I believe those things are bad. In the right time and context, they are not bad. But context matters. The type of man matters. Obviously, do not do it with a shitty ass guy, but come on, get real. That is how love actually happens. Loving hard, trusting without seeing first, and being open is how any great or real relationship happens. Love cannot start without trust. Only when the trust is broken do we have a problem, Houston.

So, starting from this day forward, y’all are my accountability partners. We are doing this journey together. Here is to dating in our thirties, regardless of past traumas, past relationships, or any great loves. Here, we do not believe in a quota for how many great loves you get in a lifetime.