When I was an awkward, chunky, bespectacled 12-year-old, I had this elaborate fantasy about how my first kiss would go, and it was straight out of a fairytale.
I would have long shiny hair that was perfectly straight with no hint of humidity-induced frizzing. My first kiss would take place in a field of tall grass. My skin would be clear and my limbs long, lean, sun-kissed.
It would be a beautiful summer day, and I would be wearing a long white dress — sleeveless, gauzy, and not quite see-through. He would be the human version of Prince Eric from “The Little Mermaid.” The kiss would be soft and confident, with perfectly matched mouths and sweet-smelling breath.
Most nights, I would fall asleep to this fantasy playing on a loop in my mind. Sometimes, I would practice kissing on my hand, my face burning with anticipation.
How my first kiss really happened: a dark back room of Skate ‘N’ Space.
It was a Thursday night, popular with youth groups because they only played contemporary Christian music. I was 14 and he was 15. He smelled like he tripped and fell into a vat of Drakkar Noir before leaving the house.
I’d gotten contacts and was no longer schlepping around all that baby weight, but I was still incredibly awkward. His shirt was purple satin, and I was wearing acid-wash jeans.
When our mouths finally met, it was at a weird angle, and our teeth clashed together.
We immediately pretended that the kiss didn’t happen. But his lips were soft and his hands were kind, and he really did look a little bit like Prince Eric — if I squinted hard enough.
We live in a world of make-believe, fairytale love. Hollywood churns out rom-coms with depressing frequency, Harlequin romances take up multiple shelves in every bookstore, and television couples look and act perfectly even when they’re actually perfectly awful.
This is what we all grow up with, maybe even more now than ever, when all anybody ever shows on social media is the best parts of their lives.
Who can blame us for believing in the lie that “flawless” love is the ideal?
The truth is that love without flaws doesn’t exist.
Each one of us is imperfect in a multitude of ways, so how could love be different?
Imperfect love is real because it isn’t perfect.
What could be more romantic than seeing and accepting the most unappealing qualities that we have? What kind of “once upon a time” could compare to the moment when two people recognize how much damage they could do to each other and fall into each other’s arms anyway? And what happier ending exists than the one where we find someone, against all the odds and love them the more that we know them?
We’re all conditioned to look for fairytale love, to hold out for pumpkin carriages, princes in disguise, and spellbound maidens asleep in the woods. But the love that we think that we crave might not be the love that we actually need.
The love that we need is messy, surprising, unreasonable, and incredible.
It’s the kind of love where we feel seen, heard, safe, and secure. It’s a love that starts off like horses galloping across your heart, then mellows into a steady sunset.
When we let go of our impossible expectations, we make room for real love, and real love gives us strength and meaning.
That’s the kind of love that you deserve, so don’t sell yourself short.