In my 20+ odd years of existence, I can say with confidence that I’ve never been in love. There isn’t a single song, poem, story or film about being in love that I can identify with. When people speak of love, it’s a foreign language to me that I’ve only just been casually studying out of curiosity. I feel like I understand some phrases, a word here or there — but not enough to qualify as fluent. From what I’ve observed in my life thus far, no one’s ever fluent in love.

Regardless, love is a place I’d like to go to someday, and it’d be really helpful if I was at least close to fluent. I’ve always been told it’s better traveling that way. By this point in this paragraph, its natural to wonder if I’ve got any baggage on me. The answer is no. I’ve got no baggage. The best way I can describe my situation of never having been in love is that I’ve just never had opportunities. Whenever I’ve thought I’ve had opportunities, they’ve always been false.

I fully admit to being lead on and played before, but as much as I hate admitting this, I don’t consider myself a fool. I consider myself an adventurous, person who is willing and eager to learn from mistakes made. I’ll do this for as long as it takes to get me to this place called love. In other words, the pursuit for love is something I won’t give up on. I want to know what it is. I want to say with confidence that, yes, I’ve been in love before.