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As of this writing, my heart still grieves for the recent relationship I had that came to an end.

I do not see myself dating again soon—but I am hopeful that I’ll eventually be in a relationship again that will sweep me off my feet in the future.

I love falling in love and being loved. It’s my drug of choice.

Don’t get me wrong though. I am comfortable being alone, but when I pin my romantic hopes unto someone, that only means I saw him through his soul—and love him for the ideal qualities I was looking for and saw in him.

And so, while I often idealize loving and being loved, I fall in love with someone only when I saw him through his soul. I do not fall in love as often as I dream about love.

But when I do, I fall really hard.

I delight in one’s emotional vulnerability, chivalry, and goodness of heart.

I am put off by one’s superficiality, selfishness, and attachment to the material world.

I want to be showered by affection just as how much I love to shower someone with mine.

I want someone who can love me for all that I am—with all my angels and demons within, just as how I would love him for all that he is if he allows me to.

I want someone I can grow old with—someone I can savor happy moments with and weather the storms of life.

I want someone I can have a lifelong romance with that my children can look up to.

If I yearn for the impossible, then so be it.

In my hopeless romantic quest, I’d always choose to be like Elon Musk:

“I’d rather be optimistic and wrong than pessimistic and right.”