What choice do I have, except to wait for True Love? Because I tried the other way — the version where I give up completely. The version where I tell myself that there is no hope left for me, and that the love I lost last time around was my final chance for happiness with another person, until I went and screwed it up with my impatience, my complaints, and all my odious demands on him. I tried the option where I stay angry with True Love forever, and I put up a big CLOSED FOR BUSINESS sign over my heart and sell all my personal love inventory to a shady warehouse on the edge of town, so I never have to deal with it again. I tried the version, too, where I try to lie and manipulate my way back into True Love’s good graces, choosing people to love me for whom I cannot muster up any authentic feelings of desire. In my defense, I was being kind; open-minded, even. But True Love demands the truth, of course, so those relationships flamed out spectacularly, every last one of them. The route I have chosen for myself, now, might accurately be called waiting for True Love, because my experience of life often feels like I am sitting in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles, patiently clutching my ticket and telling myself that if I just keep calm and don’t make any sudden moves or do anything stupid from this point forward, True Love is bound to walk right in and sit down next to me. Wherever he is, out there, I’m sure he needs to get his plates and license renewed sometime, too. ❤️‍🔥—Y.B.D.