‘I feel guilty.’
Not the exact response I wanted from the man I was dating, after I told him I was in love with him.
I was distraught – though not entirely surprised, as I knew deep down he didn’t feel the emotional depth I did.
I was also sad with myself that I’d stayed hoping this would change, believing his sincere moments of care and affection towards me were signals of more to come. Perhaps this is why he felt guilty.
At the time, aged 21, it felt impossible to get over, but half a decade later I don’t so much as even wince when I recall that memory.
In fact, I thank my lucky stars my love was unrequited. In rejecting and dumping me a few days later – and on my birthday, no less – that man gave me one of the best gifts I could ever receive: a building block towards the life I have now. And I genuinely hope he’s doing well.
Being on the tough end of unrequited love has been one of the biggest blessings in disguise I’ve encountered in my life so far.
I think of what would have happened had that man said he loved me back and we’d worked out. I’d likely be living in the countryside, where he is, and I would not have become a journalist. I would undoubtedly resent the fact that I’d not followed my calling.
Each time I feel that gut-wrenching pang of hurt at unreturned feelings, I later come to see my life can now take a different path – one that’s definitely better for me.
At 26 years old, I’ve never had a boyfriend, only numerous non-serious relationships and casual arrangements. I jokingly consider myself a ‘dating veteran’, and because of that experience I can spot a red flag from a mile off.
Naturally, there have been moments when this reality has felt tricky – when people I’m not close to ask about my dating life for example, and question why I’m not in a relationship so casually. It can trigger both emotional pain at the memories of it all, and frustration at how determined people are to see you settle down, as if my single experience is less valid.
Now, however, with the benefit of hindsight, I can recognise that my unanswered romantic feelings have done me the world of good.
After all, there is nothing quite like it to force radical self-love.
Unrequited love has seen me take up classes in everything from pole dance to cookery, change my career, practice yoga, explore my sexual life, and go to therapy – all in the name of trying to build a better relationship with myself.
Essentially, I started investing in myself all the energy I had been giving to inconsistent men and dead-end ‘relationships’. It made me stop and consider, ‘What do I want to try that I probably wouldn’t make time for if I was coupled up?’
Asking myself that question every time I experience unrequited feelings has allowed me to be grateful that I can once again continue growing as an individual, undistracted.
And I like to think, my life and character are both rich, complex and interesting given this post-heartbreak self-work. I also have never felt as though I don’t ‘know’ myself, which is something friends who fall in and out of love frequently tell me they can struggle with.
Of course, I didn’t always see it this way. It takes space – sometimes a lot of it – to look back and realise how different life could have been had heartbreak not showed up.
The turning point for me came after a joyful evening out with friends. Back home in my bed, I started thinking about all the exes – the one who moved abroad, the one who tried to gaslight me, the one who turned into a platonic friend, and the one who ghosted me, all peppered along my 20s – and realised I wouldn’t want to trade the life I have now for the possible futures I once saw with them. I slept easy that night.
When older people comment on the fact that I’m ‘wise’ and learning ‘life lessons’ much earlier than they did, I honestly think it’s down to my ongoing ‘unlucky in love’ lifestyle.
Unrequited love has the potential to make you better equipped for handling tough s**t. When there’s no one to cuddle after a rough day, or you’re the only person around to pick yourself up when you’re feeling down, it makes you quite invincible.
There’s a reason I was once described by someone as ‘indominable’ in the throes of unrequited love and that multiple men I’ve dated have commented that I’m emotionally stronger than them (though it’s always disappointing to hear we aren’t equally balanced in that aspect).
For that alone, I’m so grateful reciprocated love hasn’t found me yet.
I’ve been pushed into who I am in a way I probably wouldn’t have if I found it years ago. People generally become complacent in romantic relationships from what I’ve observed and experienced. And it’s completely forgivable, because why would you do the (unpleasant) self-work if you have someone telling you you’re wonderful every day in their ‘good morning’ text?
While solo travelling last summer in Italy, I had an Eat, Pray, Love moment of sorts over a plate of pasta, wedged in between various couples.
Perfectly content, it occurred to me I wouldn’t be on this deeply affirming and freeing trip if I had a boyfriend. After all, I’d only booked the whole thing spontaneously one lunch break after being dumped.
And yet, here I was having the time of my life. I went wine tasting and roamed around Bologna’s streets half-drunk and giddy, I ate the most delicious food and learned some of its history, I met another female solo traveller and we shared stories over cocktails one night, and I rose at the crack of dawn one morning to take on a steep hike in the July sun – feeling accomplished at the top, drenched in sweat.
All of this I got to plan without taking anyone else into account.
If I wasn’t happy being single, I’m sure I’d do something about it – but I am happy. And that is, in part, because of my unrequited loves in my past.
I like the autonomous life I’ve created for myself, while still being open and having the capacity – and desire – to love again.
It isn’t easy to process when you’re newly acquainted to the overwhelming pain of it, but unrequited love makes you resilient, I believe, after the initial storm.
Often once you leave the room in which you built a mental shrine to that person, you come home to the one person who has been there all along and that is in most need of your love and attention: you.
And blimey, am I glad I got to meet, commit to and grow into her.
Unrequited
You’re reading Unrequited, Metro.co.uk‘s week-long series exploring the confusing, exhilarating, heart-breaking realities of one-sided love.
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