Maybe I've been watching too many Chinese dramas lately.

Because suddenly, my entire view of love seems to have changed.

And honestly, I'm a little concerned.

😂

I used to think love had to be this big, overwhelming thing.

The kind where I love someone so much that I'm willing to do anything.

Wait.

I've already tried that.Look how beautifully that turned out.

So maybe I'm ready for a different kind of love now.

Maybe I don't want to spend the rest of my life loving someone more than they love me.

Maybe I don't want to keep wondering whether I'm enough.

Maybe I don't want to constantly question someone's feelings, decode their silence, or wonder whether the spark is still there.

Maybe… just maybe…

I want to be the one who is adored.

Not tolerated. Not convenient. Not loved when it's easy.

Adored.

I want someone whose love for me is slightly ridiculous.

The kind of man who looks at me and thinks, “Yep. Her. That's my person.”

The kind who actually wants to know what I'm thinking.

The kind who notices when my mood changes.

The kind who listens to my ridiculous stories even when there are absolutely no important plot developments.

The kind who laughs with me. Who wants to tell me things.

Who wants me around.  Who doesn't make me wonder whether I matter.

And maybe I don't want to be the one carrying the emotional weight anymore.

Maybe I want his love to be bigger than mine.

There. I said it. And suddenly it sounds so selfish.

But is it?

After spending so much time wondering whether someone still loves me, is it really so terrible to dream about being with someone who makes me completely certain?

Maybe I don't want another love story where I have to fight for a place in someone's heart.

Maybe I want someone who has already made room for me.

Maybe I want to be someone's favorite person.

And yes, I know.  Real life isn't a Chinese drama.

There probably won't be a ridiculously handsome billionaire CEO standing in the rain waiting for me while orchestral music plays in the background.

Although… I'm not completely opposed to the idea.

😂

But I'm not actually looking for some impossible fantasy.

I think what I want now is much simpler. 

I want a man who loves me loudly. Who isn't afraid to show it.

Who doesn't think affection is weakness.

Who doesn't make me feel stupid for wanting closeness.

Someone who can say, “I love you,” without making it sound like he's submitting a tax form.

Someone who can hold me and make me feel safe.

Someone who can make me laugh when I'm having the worst day.

Someone who can argue with me without making me afraid that the relationship is ending.

Someone who chooses me. Again and again.

Not because he has to. Because he wants to.

Maybe that's my new definition of a fairytale.

Not castles. Not princes. Not dramatic declarations.

Just two people who genuinely want each other.

And maybe, for once, I want to be the one who is loved a little more.

Maybe a lot more. Is that really so bad?

Maybe after everything I've experienced, I'm finally realizing that love doesn't have to feel like survival.

It shouldn't. Love should not constantly leave you wondering whether you're wanted.

It shouldn't make you feel like you're auditioning for the role of someone's forever person.

And maybe I don't want to audition anymore.

Maybe I want the role written for me.

Maybe I want someone who sees me and thinks: “I don't want anyone else.”

Not because I'm perfect. God knows I'm not.

I'm complicated. I'm emotional. I overthink.

I can be stubborn. I talk too much. I laugh at inappropriate things.

I probably have enough emotional baggage to qualify for checked luggage.

But I want someone who doesn't just tolerate all of that.

Someone who loves me with all of it. Someone who thinks my weirdness is part of the package. And maybe this is where I'm different now.

I'm no longer dreaming about finding someone I can love more than anything. I've already done that.

Now I'm dreaming about finding someone who can love me more than I ever imagined being loved.

Someone whose love makes me think: Oh. So this is what it feels like when I don't have to wonder.

Maybe that's my fairytale. 

Maybe this time, I don't have to chase the love. 

Maybe the love finds me.

Maybe I get to sit there, slightly suspicious, looking at this man thinking: What's the catch?

And he just laughs and says, “There isn't one.”

Honestly, that might take me a while to believe.

Trauma—or whatever you want to call the emotional scars left behind by life—has a funny way of making good things look suspicious.

But maybe someday I'll learn. Maybe someday I'll trust it.

Maybe someday I'll wake up next to someone who makes me feel safe enough to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And maybe I'll finally understand that love isn't supposed to feel like a test I keep failing.

Maybe it can just feel like home. So yes.

Maybe I've been watching too many Chinese dramas.

Maybe I've been emotionally manipulated by fictional men who apparently have unlimited money, perfect jawlines, impeccable loyalty, and somehow still have time to stare lovingly at their woman for twelve consecutive minutes.

Unrealistic.  Highly irresponsible television.

😂

But if those dramas have taught me anything, it's this: I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering whether someone loves me.

I want to know. I want to feel it. I want to be adored.

And maybe, after everything…  

I don't think that's asking for too much.

Maybe this time, my fairytale doesn't need me to love someone more.

Maybe this time… someone loves me more.

And maybe— just maybe— that's enough.