Letting someone new in is like going surfing again after a shark attack.
When I was a little girl, I never thought so many bad things would happen to me. But even life has its favorites and I’m not one of them.
When it comes to good relationships, I’ve been pretty unlucky, to say the least. But after being hurt a couple of times, I finally decided to re-enter the dating world. Surprisingly, I would put myself out there, only to bring myself back, time and time again.
At first, I was like a dating assassin, only targeting the bad guys. Yet, after some practice, I forced myself into the habit of hitting up the Batmans instead of the Jokers.
But once I actually met up with the “nice guy,” I instantly got the urge to bolt.
What was fueling my commitment-phobia, I wondered. The more a gentleman would tell me how fun and pretty I was, the more I wanted to pull away. The word “boyfriend” to me became mutually exclusive with “serial killer.” So I pushed the eject button as soon as a guy opened a car door for me.
Somehow I had become a walking contradiction: I wanted to stay detached, yet I kept going on dates. I thought I wanted to let someone new in but it became apparent that I actually didn’t.
I set impossible expectations, and in doing so, I set each date up for failure. Every time I turned a nice guy down I felt as though I had just put a dog to sleep. After I kept repeating this process over and over, I realized something was very wrong with me. I went from the girl who once felt way too deeply to the one who didn’t let herself feel at all.
Then it hit me: I run from nice guys because they remind me of how I was treated before I got hurt.
When the story starts off the same, it’s natural to be afraid that it will end the same, too. Once you’ve fallen in the past, it’s only normal to be afraid to trust again. When a guy treats me like a princess, I instantly dethrone him because I fear giving someone power over me again.
Giving my heart away after having it broken a few times is scary. Letting someone new in is like going surfing again after a shark attack: It might be worth the rush, but there’s always a risk of getting eaten alive.
I run from nice guys because I’m afraid of getting attached to someone who won’t stay.
The future is a frightening, untouchable dimension. We think we have control in shaping what’s to come, but in reality, tomorrow is out of our hands. Knowing that is terrifying. And when you start seeing someone, you easily get accustomed to waking up to good morning texts.
Slowly, a portion of your happiness depends on another person. And no matter how many times a person promises not to hurt you, there’s no guarantee he won’t.
I run from nice guys because I fear they actually aren’t as nice as they seem.
When you are a nice person, there is nowhere to go but down. And when it comes to jerks, they’re usually up front with their intentions — or you can pick up on it fairly quickly. Since they can’t get any darker, there’s no risk of them morphing into some evil creature because, well, they’re already evil.
You know what you get when you fall for a demon, but when you find an angel, it’s always disheartening to think he could become one. After all, even the devil was once an angel.
I run from nice guys because I’m afraid of getting hurt again.
When it comes down to it, this is the main reason I run from nice guys. Since I know what it feels like to have my heart broken (and all the willpower it takes to get over them), it makes me run from the possibility of going through that again.
In life, you can’t choose who you fall in love with, but you can decide whether you want to make yourself vulnerable again. But I know deep down a heart shouldn’t stay guarded forever. Life isn’t meant to be lived without love, so when I’m ready and the time is right, I will tear down my walls because the past shouldn’t lay a finger on my future.
Obviously, I’m not ready to date again, but I hope one day I will be. Because love is a risk, and without risk, there is no reward. And some risks are worth taking.
This article has been republished from Your Tango with full permission. You can view the original article here.
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