To the Man Who Will Love Me,

I don’t know who you are, where you are or what you’re going through right now, but this is from me to you.

Image from the internet

I’m a stickler for romance.

Even though I’ve been hurt in the past, I still believe in love. Not just any love, but real, guttural kind of love. Love that makes you weak at the knees.

Either that or my entire relationship with Mills and Boons, Harlequin and Silhouette was a lie?

You see, there was a time I could not get enough of romance novels. The time when my love affair with romance began. Even though I knew how each story would end, I felt an insatiable appetite for the clichés. I became starry-eyed, envisioning a great love written in the stars for me too.

Perhaps it was my fascination with the characters’ determination to navigate the pitted terrain of love that ignited my romantic idealism. How boy and girl conquered the challenges life threw at them.

And so, I figured, if the flawed characters portrayed in the novels I read were anything to go by, I had a pretty good chance at meeting you, the man of my dreams. You, the cliched tall, dark, handsome stranger destined to sweep me off my feet and sail into the sunset with me.

Thanks to These happy endings, I have relationship goals. Call me crazy. Why the hell not? I am woman enough with a lot of love to give. 

I am not naïve. Life has since taught me that nothing is handed to me on a silver platter. We do not always get what we want. And sometimes we have to fight for things.

Let’s face it, it would be easy for me to just crawl under a rock and hide behind the usual platitudes: a relationship does not define me. I don’t need a man. I can be happy and whole on my own. Jesus has my heart. 

I get all that, I really do.

But try telling that to my grandmother who has been married for sixty years. Try telling her about online dating, and how it has become the modern-day art form of throwing the handkerchief. 

I want to see you try explaining how we do the courtship dance while hiding behind the keyboard nowadays. How easy it is to end a relationship using the 'block' button.

You see, my grandmother cannot fathom how impossible it has become for us to meet, let alone establish a relationship. She would rather have me see a ‘sangoma’ to fix me and to hasten our union. 

My friends, out of love, tell me to get rid of ‘the list’. No man is perfect, or I will have to marry Jesus Christ himself, they say. 

Speaking of lists, my definition of love is:

-          Bearing all things, forgiving all things, trusting love to handle our deepest fears and desires, and always willing to support each other's dreams.

-          Allowing vulnerability and picking each other up when we fall.

-          The ability to see the tears behind each other’s smile.

-          The secret glance we share across the table, the twinkle in our eyes, the inside joke that explodes our lungs, but one that no one needs be privy to.

-          Willingness to fight, standing toe to toe until an issue is resolved.

-          Being patient, compassionate and kind.

-   Worrying about the other person.

-   Embracing flaws, warts and all.

-   Till death do us part.

There is more to this list, and I don't care what my friends say. Love is many things to different people, but one thing it is not is uncertain. Love just knows. I hope you will agree.

Someone once told me that love is not meant for everybody. They say, what are the chances
that all of us will meet the love of our lives and live happily ever? 

So, what are the chances that I will meet you, the love of my life? I shudder to think that you could be roaming this earth, scared, lonely, unable to find me, or worse, stuck in a relationship you have no business being in. 

Go figure.

And yet, despite that, I get myself out there and take the risk, trying to find you. I still cling to hope that one day, fate will unite us. I hope to God that when that happens, little damage would have been done.