“Sometimes we expect too much from others, because we would be willing to do that much for them.” ~ Unknown

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I’m beginning to wonder if my expectations for love are just too high.

It’s possible that somewhere between the idealized dreams of my heart and the belief that in the end love will always be enough, I’ve deluded myself about what is realistic to expect from another person.

I never really thought I was someone who held expectations at all, let alone that they were too high to ever be met by a mere mortal of a man. But lately, I’m wondering—is it too much to want my love to be magical? To be rocked off my axis when they kiss me, and to feel that they understand me more than any other person on earth?

Perhaps the reality is: I expect those things and that is why I am single.

Maybe I’m too busy hoping for a love fated by the divine that I’m missing the kind of love that would move in, mow my lawn, and help take care of my small family every day. I never really thought that I would have to choose—that in the end it would be an either/or situation—but it seems that it is.

I’m wondering if I need to give up the idea that love is supernatural.

The reality might be that love is in the everyday. The grocery shopping and cleaning, the doctors appointments, making sure everyone is sleeping and pooping properly—maybe it’s not at all about passion or those moments when the world drops away when you look into the eyes of the one who was created just for you.

I might just have set myself up for failure in believing in soulmates and twin flames.

Possibly I should be looking on Match.com for someone who looks as if they could settle into a mediocre existence with me where we eat fish on Fridays, go to church on Sundays, and have sex once a week after too many wine coolers.

Instead of passion and ambition, maybe I should start looking at a man’s finances to see if he could support me. It seems I should be more concerned if he has a retirement account, or at the very least, a 401 k.

Clearly the magical love doesn’t always work out the way that we want it to.

I always felt that I went into everything so openly. I was so flexible about what my life and love could look like.

Want to get married? Great, I’ll be the one in white (maybe).

Want to elope and write our own vows? Even better, but bringing the kids is a must.

Want to be life partners and let our love speak for itself? Okay, I’m always down for making up our own rules.

Love never meant a destination to me, but I’m wondering if perhaps that’s why it also never seems to go anywhere.

I know women who give ultimatums, or expect to get a 2.5 carat diamond at the end of year two, followed by a four bedroom colonial. And you know what, they actually get it. I never really wanted any of those things, so perhaps the real issue is that I need to change what I want.

I wonder now if it’s not love, but a settling on the same desires, that brings people together. I’ve always been more “I’ll give you a stone I found that means something to me,” than a, “I need a diamond on my finger to prove you love me” kind of woman.

But maybe it’s women like me who stay single because we seek simplicity. We look for love, all the while missing out on the average man who wants to do good by us.

F*ck that.

The damn truth is I’m just not set up for that.

Maybe my expectations are too high, maybe I do believe in this crazy once-in-a-lifetime love that makes me believe some people are fated by the divine to be together and, if by believing in love I’m crazy, so be it.

I can’t sell out, I can’t trade magic for someone to fix my sink. I can’t trade passion for the warmth of just having another body beside me.

It feels at times that I’ll be waiting forever.

Maybe someday they’ll make a meme out of me. I’ll be old and grey and it will say, “She’s still waiting for true love.” But, maybe not.

The belief that my expectations are too high is like saying that I should want something else other than what really calls to me, that I should tell myself to be happy with less. Maybe at one point I could, but now it’s just not possible because I’ve come too far to suddenly start believing that anything about me is one-size-fits-all.

I admit it—my expectations are high.

They are way out there; I want connection, passion, romance, laughter, poetry, and sex—hot enough so that I never feel like I’ve had enough.

I know what I bring to the table. I would drive that settled man from Match.com crazy and that he wouldn’t begin to know what to do with a woman like me.

I don’t hope to settle down when what I want to do is rise up.

I don’t want to fall into love, but rather walk into it, and somewhere along the way, realize that magic does exist but nobody finds it by playing safe.

We only find the magic if we’re brave enough to believe in it.

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Author: Kate Rose
Image: Noel Foglia/Flickr
Editor: Lieselle Davidson