As I wrote the title I thought of the old Haddaway song What is Love? with the follow-up line “oh baby don’t hurt me…” But love doesn’t hurt. Not a deep hurt. Ego hurts and we all have a little bit of ego don’t we? So when we say Love Hurts, I’m not sure it does. Don’t mind me, I’m rambling and I’m rambling to see where this blog takes me.

I’m a hopeless romantic with more emphasis on the hopeless. I’ve been in love and I’ve attracted many types. But the type I seem to attract the most are men with anxiety. And anxiety ranges from mild insecurity to all out narcissists.

The narcissists (cue February born men) always saw themselves out because irrespective of my own insecurities, once I get to a certain point, you can’t control me. I question, I challenge, I annoy. Then there were those whose anxiety shows up as insecurity (cue the number of Taurus men I attract) or those living with anxiety/ depression. And boy, did I love a man with anxiety. Men with anxiety brought out my Superhero Saviour Complex. You want to feel worthy? You want to feel great about yourself? Then I’m your gal. I am your cheerleader. And the cheerleading is genuine. I don’t see the point of being with someone if you’re not for someone. But here’s where the hopeless in the hopeless romantic features. My life has been cheerleading the ex-loves of my life until I run on empty and realise that my depletion is down to the fact that the cheerleading hasn’t completely been reciprocated.

It’s not entirely my fault, I was raised to believe that selflessness was a virtue. And in hindsight of it all, I call bollocks on it now! At this time of life, I have learned to dance with my demons. I know the insecurities I have to deal with. The last time I was depleted was when my marriage ended. Once I knew my marriage was over, I ended up in hospital. My body was tired of bending itself into a W, walking on eggshells and being silent when the only alternative was an argument. My already precarious iron levels fell out and for a few weeks, I had time to think and recollect.

Once it was just me and the younglings in the house, we were still adjusting and I remember at one point where I was washing my dishes and a weird feeling came over me. I had to stop and label the feeling. That feeling was peace. Like I was floating on the saltiest of seas. A calm I hadn’t felt for a long time. Too long.

In the meantime my only outlet to connect was social media and love looked like bloodbath in the Battle of the Sexes. For as long as I can remember all women – especially black women have ever wanted was love. Love looked like cheerleading, support, a goal to aspire to, seeing plans come to fruition. I remember a woman on Instagram saying she wanted a mans attention, a compliment or two and proactive support with the “manly things” like taking the car to the mechanic. The first comment I saw on the post was “good luck with that!” Everything she asked for were things that could be given for free. Then it seemed that this sentiment was echoed around the world.

I recently watched Indian Matchmaker and Jewish Matchmaker on Netflix and realised that these women are all raised by their families to be princesses. Yet we as black women are taught to carry our vex money on a date. Despite that, for me there is still hope to find love. A reciprocated love. A grown-up, send me the random text, I’ll cook that meal that you’ll love so much, kinda love. I know despite all the noisy negativity, there are good men out there and there are enough black women being loved up on to make me know that it’s possible. So as I reach this point of the blog, I will answer the question What is Love… for me.

They say the best things in life are free. Yes a six-figure man is cool but £1001.01 is also a six-figure number! A lot depends on where you put that decimal point. But in a world where every other post is about “what can a woman bring to a table” and women being judged on their looks alone by a man who died in the legs of a prostitute that he had met just hours before his demise… I see this shift of applying capital to relationships when the literal best parts of a relationship are free; yet we are led to believe that money, looks and possession are the only thing of importance in relationships. And they are, but in moderation. Now whilst I do not advocate the struggle love narrative that people think is the portion for black women, I do think that this “provider of all things that have a cost” is a convenient double-edged sword for men who have had the traditional paths of developing generational wealth blocked but also want to show up for the woman that they love/ like/ interested in. Then I came across a video of a woman speaking on the qualities that she sees in a man and none of what she stated cost a penny. To surmise, she stated that the things on her list were:

Vision | Clarity | Support | Direction | Communication | Attention | Making her his priority | Discipline | No Games

This is my go to video now because I think that she articulated my perspective on what I would like in a relationship. I probably would’ve taken a more sedate way but she said what she said; and whilst I’mnot a Scripture gal, she utilised those passages nicely. I’m in a different place now and I’m not sure if it’s age or experience that has made me bold but if these things aren’t in place on both sides, I’m not sure I want it. It doesn’t have to be perfect or linear or tunnel-vision without the fun but we’ve got to be working towards something good. I want to be happy in love and it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but me and him. If it happens, I’ll let you know but by the time I let you know, it will be a firmly established relationship.

Wish me luck….

Tricia xx