I’ve always been the kind of girl to have a boyfriend. Not because I need one to function properly, but because I have spent the majority of my life searching for romantic love in a happy relationship. Something that we all know is fairly difficult to find. The thing is, I got spectacularly good at convincing myself that the relationship I possessed in the moment was somehow exactly what I wanted — and I turned up dead wrong every time.
I think the problem is I’m a serious person, I like having deep conversations (which can annoy some people), I’m sensitive and empathetic, I like to laugh and am often witty (but I’m far from the class clown), I never enjoyed the hook-up culture of college, I don’t break the rules often, I am an introvert (INFP, to be precise), I get uncomfortable in crowds, I prefer quiet activities over anything loud and competitive.
Basically, I am a Felicity.
all about liberating haircuts & constant indecision & bulky sweaters.
The concept that I empathize with most about Felicity is her constant division of head vs heart. Felicity wants to fall madly, head over heels in love and have that person love her back. When you say it aloud, it sounds like the most obvious concept — to love and be loved in return — but most people would say that Felicity has read too many novels and her expectations are far too grand. I find that view of life utterly depressing, thus I did not ascribe to it at any point in my teen or adult years. This, however, led to many bad decisions and much heartbreak because I wanted to believe big, romantic love could be a reality for me.
But as Sally (Felicity’s tape recording pen pal) advised her: You can’t know who that person is, the person who will become your ultimate confidant, your soul mate, or your lover.
The guys I dated didn’t love me, they loved the idea of me. Which sounds cliche, but most cliches are based in fact. So I kept on looking, constantly searching for sails on the horizon that would bear me away from the gaping disconnect I felt with everyone I knew. And then I realized that I’d been staring at the person I was supposed to be with all along. Instead of settling for a Noel, I took a chance on a Ben — and I never looked back. Because we all know what those time traveling episodes of Felicity’s final season taught us, you can’t change the past, even if your ex-roomate sends you back in time.
