I know how I got here. I wanted a great love and love story. I got it. It didn’t stay that way. I got a divorce. Shortly thereafter, I lived with a demon amongst men. His soul was filthy and incomplete. Then some time later, I gave the last of my heart to someone who didn’t truly value me.
And now I am devoid of that enduring love I was so capable of in my youth.
I only have conditional love and it’s to the point, I am slowly conceding to society turning me into an asexual statistic just like it has done to all the beautiful, talented, unwanted Black women before me.
If I am faced with the choice of settling for less or being alone. I would rather be alone. …because some how I feel I have been settling my entire life.
At 46, I no longer feel another great love is possible. Perhaps enduring, but not great. Not passionate.
And that saddens me.