Damsel in Yogurtland

There's an old saying "you don't choose who you love" that I used to find so romantic and whimsical.  Like the second you meet someone you're sucked into an inescapable pink vortex of cuddles and overwhelming emotion; like it's meant to be. But if I've learned one thing in roughly a decade of mistake-ridden romances (starting with my butterflies at the sight of Brendan Brody in the sax section at band rehearsals in middle school and extending to my half-year on again/off again series of romantic misdemeanors with a certain hipster ginger) it's that you can choose.  In fact you should.

Telling yourself you didn't choose this love many times means accepting him for all his wrong-doings.  Lord knows I forgave my beloved Brendan when he made fun of my braces and frizzy hair because I was convinced that my heart had closed the final chapter and there was no rewrite to my middle school melodrama.  And although my mouth is no longer full of metal and I like to think of myself as a savvy woman, I still decide to forgive the men in my life who have used my heart as a soccer ball.  But guess what?  We're not Rapunzel or Sleeping Beauty or Snow White.  We're women who wish our hair looked half as good as those damsels, but we're also women who save ourselves.  We're women who pack 3 suitcases for a long weekend because we need outfit options, who layer 7 toppings on our fat-free fro-yo, and who go through every filter on Instagram before posting.  We can't survive without choices!  So why is love any different?

There are too many options in this world to settle for a relationship that's sub-par or flat or downright disrespectful.  I choose to be happy.  And if love comes along as a perk?  Well then I'll consider giving him a bite of my 8 ounces of self-serve frozen yogurt.