I have had my fair share of crushes. I won’t deny it; I was a serial crusher. I would find someone I liked, and they would either like me back, or they wouldn’t. Either way, I would eventually move on. I never got into any relationships. I didn’t even know if I wanted one. Why, then, was I wasting my time hung up on a boy who wouldn’t make a move? It was exhausting. When I went away to college, I made the decision that I would no longer be lusting after boys. I was not going to be single forever. I wanted a man. And a man knows what he wants.

If a man wanted me, he would go for me. That’s what I needed. The chase. And, surprisingly, it didn’t take long for me to get it. By the end of my first month of college, I realized that people are way more straightforward now than they were in high school. Sure, there was no escape from the stupid relationship games, but if a man wanted you, he made it known. There was no longer anything embarrassing about being attracted to the opposite sex. It was celebrated. I loved it. I never wanted it to end.

But good things never last. They give way to other good things, or better things, and even some crappy things. That’s life. Another month of my freshman year had passed, and the chase was over; I was ready to settle down. He had spent a month trying to win me over, and I thought the dedication was cute. My initial desire to stay single had flown out the window with the prospect of unlimited cuddles and makeout sessions. It was nice. It was really nice. Sometimes, something would feel off, but I ignored it. I was in a relationship and it was awesome. Sure we had our ups and downs, but at the end of the day, I had someone to talk to who would agree with everything I said while telling me I was pretty. But that was the thing. He agreed with everything I said.

I thought that I would be happy with someone who listened to everything I said or did, but I wasn’t. I noticed that his feelings seemed to be getting more and more deep for me, and I was just getting annoyed with him more and more frequently. Everything he did irritated me. The poor guy had no idea. He was never anything but nice. I had to let him go for his own good. I was selfish. I cared more about my own feelings than I did his. I was in no condition to be in a relationship. We broke up about a month into my second semester.

Once you get a taste of something you like, you never want it to stop. I am ashamed to say that I became addicted to being in a relationship. It had only been a few days when I met the next guy. We flirted, he asked for my number, and we went on a date. He seemed okay enough. He was funny, nice, and cute, but I just wasn’t feeling anything. I crossed him off my list and moved on to the next one. And the next one. And the next one. I had gone from being a serial crusher, to being a serial dater. Finally I found a guy who I really liked. The kind of like I never felt with my ex or any of the other guys, for that matter. He was fantastic. There was nothing about him that I didn’t like. Or so I thought.

He felt just as intensely for me as I did for him. It was both horrible and wonderful at the same time. He had the power to lift me up into the most blissful state of being, while also being able to drag me down to hell. Both phases usually happened multiple times a day. I was on an emotional rollercoaster. We cared so much about each other, but for some reason, nothing ever seemed to go right. It was a constant battle of wills and I loved it. It was so exciting. No more pushovers for me. I needed someone who had a brain and opinion for himself, but I failed to realize that there was a difference between not being a pushover, and not respecting you. He thought he respected me, but he didn’t. I found myself going along with what he wanted more and more because I liked him and it was okay. I was so terrified of being bored that I was okay with my situation. I didn’t want to go back to being single. There was nothing to me that being single could offer, that seemed better than being in a relationship. Especially with this guy. I wanted things to work out for us so badly. I’m so young and I was already dreaming about forever, and so was he. But it didn’t work. Our breakup was just as intense as our entire relationship had been. I refused to be his friend, but I missed him. We got back together, except this time I knew what I wanted. He would respect me and treat me how I deserved to be treated. And for a while, he did. But he never knew what it was that he was doing wrong.

After another three weeks, finally, we had to call it quits. This time it wasn’t so intense. We talked. He explained his feelings, and I explained mine. We still cared for one another, but something was falling short. We both needed time to be alone and grow. I’m not choked up about it this time like I was the first time we broke up; I'm inspired. Yes I miss him, and yes, I think about him; but I was okay without him. I’m getting back the girl I gave away in order to be in a relationship. I never want to lose myself to be with a man again. This girl is staying single for now. Once I find myself, maybe I can find someone else, but until then, I’m single and that’s okay.