Romantically Hopeless

Every fiber in my being is resisting writing this post.

Wanna know why???

My name is Shannon Allen and I’m a hopeless romantic.

Yes. I am part of HRA. Hopeless Romantics Anonymous.

I have resisted this notion for YEARS.  I have, and continue to be, jaded from every single one of my past relationships.  Let’s see… I had the smarty pants boyfriend who thought I was crazy (he was right, he just couldn’t handle my craziness), the ass hole who wanted to have strange relationships with women online while we were dating (and then proceed to lead me on and break up with me like 500 times), and then there’s the guy who promised me the world and then decided he didn’t like (or love) me anymore.

Don’t even get me STARTED on the guys that I have (as my generation calls it) “talked” to throughout my 24 years on this strange planet we call Earth.

Anyway… I really don’t want to focus on these men.  I have no desire to anyalyze my past lovers any more than I want a bullet in my head.

**On a sidenote, I HATE being that woman who overanalyzes everything after a breakup.  I catch myself going through every single detail in my head and it drives me NUTS. Ladies… you know what I’m talking about.  Sometimes it sucks to have a vag… and estrogen… and tits.

Just kidding… tits are awesome! Cheers to that! YAY BOOBS!

ANYWAY… as someone who has lived almost a quarter of a century, I would like to think that I must have learned something about love.  However, I’m not so sure if I’ve learned a single, god-damned thing.

You wanna know why?? Because no matter how hard I fight it, and no matter how many fucking douche canoes I’ve dated or had to interract with in my life, I am STILL a hopeless romantic.

How fucked up is that???

I would say on a scale of “one” to “fucked up,” that’s pretty fucked up.

I know love exists.  And I’m not talking about fleeting, flaky love; I’m talking about soul-mate, love-them-till-you-die, do-anything-for-this-person, crazy, insane love.  (Fuck… I just sounded like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City. Fuck my life. I really AM a hopeless romantic).  I am such a delusional freak that I think that love is more important than anything in this world.  I think that money, success, fame, glory, are nothing if you don’t have someone to share your life with.  I truly believe that someone can have all these things, while still making love their number one priority.

Many people don’t agree with this notion, nor did some of my ex boyfriends.

It’s funny because I remember my friend from college once telling me that she felt at the time (not now, because she is now happily engaged) that no boyfriend had every loved her as much as she loved them.  I think this is an interesting thought. And for that matter, the more I think about it, I have never felt like any of my serious boyfriends ever loved me as much as I loved them.

This might sound ludicrous, but the more I really think about it, the more it become a true statement.

Perhaps my tendency to be a hopeless romantic is what gets my in troble in the first place.  I often throw myself into these relationships when men persue me, only to make up fantastical ideals that are almost unreachable.  The saying goes that “love is blind,” but I think a better saying would be, “mediocre love is blown out of proportion.” I let myself fall so hard for these men, who have never been ready, capable or willing to give me the love I need and want.  Then when it ends, I am so incredibly devastated that I cannot imagine how I’m going to survive without this “love” I placed on such a high pedestal.

Now I am making a HUGE life change where I’m embarking on an entire new life in New York City.  Maybe it’s time for me to get over this whole hopeless romantic mentality and grow up.


I’m just a damsel in distress waiting for my prince.

Fuck that.

I’m a rock and roll girl, looking for my Dave Grohl to rescue me and we can drink whiskey and make out into the wee hours of the morning until the sun rises over the Empire State Building.

Maybe I’m too picky.  Maybe I’m delusional.  Maybe I’m crazy.

I don’t give  rat’s ass.  I’ll be a part of HRA until I meet the right person.

And I’m so sorry to the man who vows to deal with my lady business for the rest of his life.  He’s gonna be one tough cookie.

Shannon Allen


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