You’re not tired of dating; you’re just tired. You’re tired of bearing the weight alone. You’re tired of an empty apartment and dinner for one. You’re tired of ricocheting off yourself and slugging shots at the bar. You’re tired of playing dress up with no one to dress you down. You’re tired of the excruciating loneliness that creeps onto tingling skin, begging for touch like sucking for air. And so am I. So is she. So is he, and that girl, and those boys, and so many other people you see on the train, in the market, across the table. But we keep doing it because it’s worth it, because it’s everything, because for all the awkward hellos and terrible dinners, there’s one flawed masterpiece who’s singing your harmony in the SUV three parking spots over.
It’s not about dating. It’s never been about getting set up or going online or any of the crazy things we do to meet someone; it’s not about any of that. It’s about faith. It’s about hope. It’s about remembering the person you’re looking for isn’t a checkmark, but a journey, a stroke of luck, an oh my god and a holy shit and a you won’t believe what happened. It’s the best part of life. And it’s out there. Every great story, every novel and film and letter written only to be burned is about this. And we’re all tired of bearing the weight of those stories… but we bear them together. Keep swimming to the surface, keep swimming ‘til your hands are numb and your lungs are empty and everything is simultaneously tight and enormous because the moment you burst to the surface, your whole existence will change. That’s why we do this. That’s why we do anything.