If Love is a Test, I Keep Failing

Sometimes I feel like if I were to receive a grade in life, it would be an F. Have you ever met someone who took their driver's test 6 times before they finally passed? Even though it’s the same obstacle over and over, they can’t get it right. Well, that’s me when it comes to guys. The universe continues to “test” me, placing men (or more accurately boys) in front of me who are exactly the same as the one who came before them. They all appear to have the potential to love me, only for me to find myself days, weeks, or months later, dumbfounded with a knot in my stomach. I can’t say I blame them, because I make it easy. Giving too much too quickly, going out of my way when they did nothing to deserve it (yeah, buying dinner is the bare minimum but when you grow up feeling like nobody cares about you, the bare minimum disguises itself as the best you can do). They say life will keep presenting to you the same situation until you have successfully healed. Unfortunately for me, no matter how much time has passed, how much counseling I do, or self-help books I read, the second I start liking someone all my common sense, psychotherapy and self-development go out the window. Need an example? Let’s turn back the clock one year ago…

It’s April and I’m in Florence. I met this Albanian guy on a dating app, (we’ll call him Matt) mostly driven by my desire to get over my ex who ghosted me after I went all the way to Rome to see him. Matt grew on me, although the connection wasn’t immediate, I found myself falling the more time we spent together. He wasn’t the most handsome, but I figured I’d give him a chance. It was inconvenient, because due to his “work schedule,” I always found myself being the one who needed to go there. So every weekend I spent 3 hours (and a lot of money) on the Italo train, but I didn’t mind since I was excited to see him. At first, he seemed great; the sex was bomb, he texted me every day and his calling me babe, baby, amor, etc. made me think he felt the same. I wore his clothes, hung out with his friends, slept at his house, and went to his restaurant for dinner where he fed me wine, bread, pasta, and cheesecake. Since he was around the same age (27) I thought he wanted something serious. I thought I was in heaven…

Fast forward to June, Matt and I planned a trip to go to London. I went to Albania for a month and he mentioned traveling together before I left for New York. Because I wanted to split up the flight from Albania to America (in addition to desperately wanting to see him again), I eagerly agreed. Things became strange when he asked me to start looking for a hotel. In Albanian culture, it’s seen as an insult to ask a woman to pay (I’m not Albanian so I could be wrong, but I’ve dated several Albanians and my impression is that it’s embarrassing for a man to make a woman pay). I figured maybe Matt was just busy with work, but after weeks passed and our trip was approaching, I got the impression that it wasn’t because he couldn’t search for a flight but that he wanted ME to. I get it, as an American even though I wasn’t working, I had more than enough savings where I could have easily bought us a hotel. But I had already gone out of my way to meet him in Florence since he wanted to fly together. Even though flying from Tirana to Florence was a nightmare (two layovers), I gave him the benefit of the doubt. We could’ve easily met in London, after all, there was a direct flight from Florence and Tirana, and it would’ve saved me a lot of time and money rather than having to go out of my way, but I liked him and I did it. So for him to ask me to get the hotel on top put a bad taste in my mouth and a sour feeling in my stomach.

What happened in London was one of the worst in my life (and that’s saying a lot because this bitch has decades of trauma) however the way he made me feel in those 4 days was unbearable. It was loud and clear that he used me to go to the UK and have a personal photographer. Devastated and ashamed, I realized he probably never even liked me. After all I did, I was humiliated, left alone and I never heard from him again. I was so scarred from this experience that I was disgusted by men the rest of the year. I vowed to never let it happen again. I stopped dating, deleted my apps, dedicated myself to celibacy, and worked on fixing my attraction to emotionally unavailable losers.

In January I started dating a guy in Spain (his alias will be Joey). Joey seemed different; we were so similar it was freaky. He seemed vulnerable and emotionally intelligent. He made me feel important. We shared values and I felt understood. When we met in person, I didn’t feel an immediate spark but in a matter of weeks, I felt I could tell him anything and like I knew him. This is it, I thought. HE is it. We slept together and the sex was A1. I was falling in love. The only downside was that Joey lived in Sabadell, a city outside of Barcelona. Because he had less than 10€ in his bank account, I thought the least I could do was go see him. After all, I could afford it, not him. Even though he had a job and I didn’t, I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I felt sorry for the guy. He would tell me about how hard his life was, how unlucky he was, and how he wanted to come to Barcelona but if I went to him, it would be better since we’d have more time together. Yet again, I took the train because I didn’t want to seem selfish or difficult. I liked Sabadell, so my time could be sacrificed because he was worth it… That was until Joey ghosted me and confessed he wasn’t in the “right frame of mind” for anything serious (even though he said differently in the beginning). I cried for a month. I felt deceived and played. I thought we had something promising. I thought he was a good person. Although I don’t miss him anymore, it still stings.

Now I’m here. Rome is my favorite place but life always throws me a bone anytime I visit. It’s filled with amazing memories as well as incredibly painful ones. This year I went to Rome with my family for Christmas. It was a wonderful time as well as eye-opening. I hadn’t seen my ex in 8 months (by now you all know R noodle better than he knows himself). R and I were on OK terms, but despite my best efforts to promise myself I wouldn’t contact him, on Christmas Eve I decided to text him. I was over him, I thought, but I wanted to test my willpower and prove it once and for all. To my surprise, when he walked up to me that night, I felt nothing. Here was this man who broke my heart not once, not twice but multiple times. A man I crossed continents for, only to be told he never saw me as anything but a friend. I would’ve done anything for him, and I did. I went to Rome every few months, I spent hundreds of dollars on Airbnbs close to Trevi fountain so we could be together since he literally couldn’t afford it. And it’s not just that, but I tried as hard as I could to get him to love me, so when I couldn’t I felt like a failure. But after putting myself through constant mental torture here he was and I finally felt nothing. When we went to his house and he tried to kiss me after making me dinner, I refused. He apologized. I felt powerful and proud. Now I was rejecting him and not vice versa. He drove me home and I got the closure I had been seeking for a year and a half. The day after Christmas I went on a date with an Italian boy (his name will be Ricky). I had never gone out with an Italian before but from what I heard, they were, apparently, talented in bed (even though at this point, my abstinence game was strong). I met Ricky after a cooking class. He seemed sweet; I liked that I told him I was probably the tallest woman in Italy and he didn’t mind. I was bigger than him but I didn’t care, and the fact that it didn’t bother him was sexy as hell. We got drinks and I accidentally spilled on him after talking too much with my hands. He was funny and easy to talk to. He made a good impression on me. At the end of the night, he drove me home. He tried to sleep with me but I said no because I was staying with my family. He said he could sneak into the house but I declined. I wasn’t interested in sleeping with anyone I just met. I wanted a husband, not a friend with benefits. I didn’t let it bother me though, it was a good night and he seemed nice. Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? We kept in contact and I told him the next time I go to Italy I would text him, and I did…

Stay with me here; last month I went to Milan because I had a flight credit that was going to expire so I figured before I go back to Barcelona I might as well take a trip since I’ve been wanting to see it for so long. Because I had such a fun experience with Ricky, I figured I’d download Bumble in an attempt to move on from Joey who ghosted me a month earlier. From Bumble I went on a date with Leo (yes that’s his actual name but he doesn’t have social media so it’s fine… a major green flag by the way). Leo had a great vibe about him, he used a lot of emojis which can be a pro or a con, but he called me on the phone and told me he made dinner reservations at a vegan restaurant which made me feel special since he was so thoughtful. He picked me up and seemed super down-to-earth and intelligent. There were many things about Leo I admired, like that he read books and solo traveled. He was 23 but appeared more mature than most guys my age. The only thing I didn’t like was that after dinner he brought me back to his place “for wine”. He forgot to mention that he owned a penthouse but that’s beside the point. He proceeded to kiss up and down my neck and tell me how he wanted to eat my pussy on his kitchen counter for hours. Although I love Italians and had never slept with one at this point, I wasn’t interested in oral sex with a stranger. He was persistent but eventually got the hint and ordered me an Uber. He sent me a text about how much he respected me for saying no to him… we left off on good terms and that was that.

Sidebar: I can’t just have sex with someone. I need to feel an emotional connection with them, as most females do. Sex does nothing for me. I can achieve better results with my vibrator. I don’t have sex to cum, I have sex with someone because I LIKE them, so when I do sleep with someone, (and if the sex is good) I find myself liking them more, even if to them, it’s just fucking. This is where I slip up because a lot of times the feelings aren’t equal.

Ok, let me bring you back to this week. My ex picked me up from the airport but it was fine because we were just friends… I didn’t plan to spend much time with him because I was seeing my other friend and the night before I told Ricky I wanted to see him. But as the day progressed with R noodle, something odd happened. He took me to lunch, we went to the park, we raced up the Spanish steps, we lay in the grass and looked at the sky talking about random things. In the midst of it all, I felt cared for. I felt protected and safe. And as I held onto him on the back of his moto with my head on his shoulder, fuck… I felt butterflies. I wanted to spend more time together. He only has one day off and he chose to spend it with me. I could be myself around him. He’s so serious but I make him laugh. He has such a hard exterior but a soft spot for me. I didn’t know how one person could make me feel so weak. I didn’t understand how after so much time apart, all my feelings came flooding back. I knew he loved me, and I know he’s just as attracted to me as I am to him. I know our friendship is weird. I knew if circumstances were different we could be together. I knew I was good for him but he wasn’t good for me. When he would tell me what he wanted in a girl he would describe me. Why couldn’t he see what I see? Why did life keep bringing us back together if we weren’t meant to be? I knew it wasn’t good. I knew it had to end, I had to leave before it went any further because if I went back to his I wouldn’t have been able to resist kissing him. His lips, his strong hands, his chestnut eyes. He asked me if I wanted to hang out at his house and I said no. It took every ounce of self-control (and brain cell) but I was good and made him drive me back. I worked so hard to fall out of love with him, I didn’t want to risk falling back in.

Later in the same night (I know it sounds bad but my intentions were pure) I met up with Ricky after finishing with my friend. He picked me up on his new scooter and took me to dinner. He took me to a spot where I could see the entire view of Rome (almost) and we talked late into the night. He was adorable and funny. It started to rain and he gave me his jacket to keep me warm. He kissed me under the overhang of a corner store and held me in his arms. It was romantic as fuck and it was in this moment he won me over. When he dropped me off, I was turned on mentally and physically. “I’ll plan a romantic night for us sometime this week, he said, you just have to tell me when.” I knew a romantic night meant us sleeping together but I was all in. I wanted it, I wanted him. He treated me great. He was a good guy. I’m going to give the nice guy a chance for once. And I did. We spent more time together, he took me for wine, he wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me in public. He made me feel significant. I liked him. God damn it, I hate when I start liking someone because I know how it goes, but maybe, just maybe, this time won’t end like the others. He was sincere, not like Matt, Joey, or the 10 narcissists that came before him… or so I hoped.

Two nights ago Ricky and I slept together. It was quite unfortunate because even though it’s awesome I got my period, the timing couldn’t have been less than ideal. Either way, he was hot as hell and I wanted to spend the rest of my time there in bed with my Italian lover, drinking cappuccino, eating gelato, and making love until we couldn’t anymore. Who needs R anyway? Now I have a real man who appreciates me. So when R texted me telling me I could sleep at his house if I needed a place to stay, I declined. And when Leo messaged asking to see me, I made an excuse that I was sick. It wouldn’t be right to Ricky. I’m a one-man kind of woman. I can’t see multiple people at once, I don’t work that way. My heart is for one person only, I don’t know how people have the energy or desire to date or have sex with more than one person. Once I like someone, I lose attraction to everyone else.

Ricky set a high standard and lived up to everything I envisioned Italian men would be. He fed me, he ate me out on my period despite hating blood, (poor thing), but what a man taking one for the team. And then, today happened. Last night he texted me he wasn’t feeling well so he couldn’t hang out. Today, on my last day, he suddenly became the worst texter in the world, responding once an hour and not making any effort to see me. What a coincidence, that after we slept together, the effort went from 100 to 0, how ironic. It can’t be, not Ricky. But I suppose it can…

Welp, here we are, again. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I won’t lie and admit I’m not disappointed, mostly with myself. Oh honey, when will you learn? Does anyone have the same heart as me? Will anybody ever choose me? Why does no one see my value? Do I not have any? How come men don’t take me seriously? I can’t even feel sorry for myself because I know history has a habit of repetition. If I learned from my past mistakes, I probably wouldn’t have even gone to Rome in the first place…

I have no words of inspiration or motivational quotes to share right now. I feel pretty bummed, discarded, frustrated with men, and 1,000€ poorer than I was a week ago. I tell myself to be alone but sometimes loneliness gets the best of me and leads me to do things I’m not proud of. I don’t know why love is effortless to some while to others it’s anything but easy but I trust self-respect and childhood trauma has a lot to do with it. Even though I was crying hours earlier at the train station, I’m doing my best to see this as a good thing. An opportunity to do better next time. What do you do when you fail a test? You study so you can pass it next time. And if you don’t pass it on the next try, if you want it badly enough, you persevere and do everything you can until eventually, you don’t need to retake it anymore.

Maybe life (or an aspect of it) seems like a never-ending test you can’t figure out. Perhaps it’s money or career or maybe for you it’s health, family or friendships. Whatever your struggle or greatest challenge might be, I encourage you to view it as an invitation. The work is difficult as fuck, nobody said it would be easy but most things in life that are worth having aren’t a walk in the park. Instead of beating yourself up for yet another “when will I ever learn?” moment, get curious about it. What did you do differently this time versus the last? What can you do differently next time and why didn’t you? What were you afraid of? What in yourself do you grapple with? What fueled your behavior? What were you hoping to obtain with the outcome? Who was in the driver's seat? How was the universe challenging you to up-level? Be your own detective and gather data on yourself. It’s not a failure if you grow from it. At the moment my heart is heavy but sometimes it’s in our lowest moments when we say enough is enough. From rock bottom, you have nowhere to go but up. I won’t let this setback break me. I will use it as feedback. I will allow myself to be sad today and move forward tomorrow. I hope you do the same.