Maybe I do have a realistic view of love.

I’ve had two men in my life tattoo my name on their arms, and yet neither of them is someone I would choose to spend the rest of my life with.

Maybe that’s a strange statement to make, or perhaps it’s one that needs a little more context. But the truth is, the man I’ve grown attached to wouldn’t take such drastic measures to demonstrate his love for me. And yet, if he had done something like that, I think it would’ve made me fall for him a little harder. Maybe there’s a reason for that.

The guy I started seeing this past summer made the bold decision to tattoo my name on his arm as a way of showing me how much he cares about me. I imagine most women would love to have their significant other do something so seemingly romantic, to have someone love them so passionately that they’re willing to make a permanent declaration of it.

And isn’t that what I crave in this lifetime? To be loved wholeheartedly. To be cared for deeply. To have someone choose me so fiercely that I never have to question the sincerity of their love.

So why not him?

Why do I find myself holding on to the one I can’t seem to let go of, the one who wouldn’t go to such extremes for me? Why does the possibility of being loved by someone who is willing to give me so much not seem to outweigh my attachment to someone who might never love me in the way I secretly wish to be loved?

Maybe love isn’t as simple as recognizing who would do the most for you. Maybe grand gestures can make you feel wanted without necessarily making you feel understood. And maybe, despite how much I crave a love that is passionate, intentional, and unwavering, I can’t force myself to feel something just because someone is willing to give me everything I think I want.

But I still wonder: am I holding on to someone because I genuinely believe he’s the one I want, or because there’s something about his inability to love me the way I desire that makes me want him even more?