Just call me a hopeless romantic

I believe that every great romance has a magical beginning. The guy sees the girl from across the room and in that very moment, he knows he will never be the same. He musters up enough courage to walk up to her but by the time he is in front of her he becomes lost in her eyes, forgetting even his name. She turns red from the look he gives her, and she knows she never wants him to look away.

As I read this out loud, I don't get butterflies in my stomach, and my cheeks don't turn red, this is not my love story. I am a romantic, but this is where the hopelessness comes in. No one is bringing me flowers or holding my hand. See, my love story did not begin with a man; it had to start with myself. It began with me looking at myself and not wanting to look away from all the black and women and beauty staring right back at me. Don't get me wrong; I am still waiting for my Prince Charming, but I know I deserve more than to sit and wait, more than imagining a life that isn’t mine. Someday I will share my experience with someone, and we will laugh at the same stupid jokes, say sorry after being in the wrong, eat out when we don't feel like cooking. Moreover, maybe my expectations should be more Moana and less Cinderella, go after the adventure and save the day.

However, until then I guess you could say I'm deciding between having a snack and being one. So if you are reading this right now Prince Charming, I am done waiting for you, go ahead and walk across the room and don't worry about saving the day, I already did.

And I lived happily ever after, the beginning.

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