30 [M4F] NJ - Make Me Believe in Love Again

I bet you can’t. I doubt anyone can, at this point. All love has ever been is lies and delusions, and all I’ve ever felt afterward is shame and humiliation. 

I’m thirty years old and I never had a girlfriend. Never wanted one, really. Not for the sake of having one, at least. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming of meeting the one who makes all the pain and loneliness I’ve suffered through all these years worth waiting for. 

Lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that belief is naivety. There are no princesses locked away in towers to save, no knights in shining armor coming to rescue them. No. The only hands that can bring us any comfort are our own. 

Quite a sardonic way to begin a post, isn’t it? Cynical, selfish, arrogant. Hardly appealing. And yet, I lay these words bare on the screen. A soul’s lament, wondering if there is any resonance in this endless void. 

As a shallow-minded man, physical attraction is quite important to me. Ironically, I can hardly be called anyone’s type. It is only fair if I improve my appearance as much as possible, although your racial and cultural preferences (I am East Asian and agnostic) are barriers I cannot cross. 

What am I looking for? Someone like me, I guess. Someone who prefers the small comforts of life–a rainy day indoors, snuggling up with a good book and a cozy cup of warm coffee or tea, as opposed to a rambunctious adventure across the world. All the experiences I could ever want can be found in written stories or in nature trails of my state. I always wanted children, although given that I am likely heading towards a life of isolation that has become more of a fantasy than a desire. 

I suppose years of reaching out into nothingness without success has made an impression on my spirit. I’m honestly not sure what to make of what I just typed. I don’t think I am unwell, although I can hardly consider myself unbroken. In the end, this is someone who has become accustomed and comfortable with being alone, yet still harbors a morbid curiosity whether there is someone else out there like me. 

(Don’t get your hopes up.)