In my teenage years, I told myself, 'your time will come'. I was a late bloomer (I thought) socially reserved, but hopeful. I assumed, as most do, that love would arrive in time naturally, effortlessly. It didn’t. Years passed, and while others around me experienced their first relationships, I remained on the outside, always observing, never participating.
I’ve never had a girlfriend. There’s a strange pain in that,not the sharp grief of loss, but the dull ache of absence. You can’t truly miss what you’ve never had, and yet, somehow, you do. Over time, you grow used to it. The ache doesn’t go away, but it becomes quieter, almost part of the background.
Still, even in that numbness, something feels off, as though a vital human experience has quietly passed me by. It’s not bitterness I feel, but a quiet wondering: what would it have been like, if it had ever been my turn?
I’ve never had a girlfriend. There’s a strange pain in that,not the sharp grief of loss, but the dull ache of absence. You can’t truly miss what you’ve never had, and yet, somehow, you do. Over time, you grow used to it. The ache doesn’t go away, but it becomes quieter, almost part of the background.
Still, even in that numbness, something feels off, as though a vital human experience has quietly passed me by. It’s not bitterness I feel, but a quiet wondering: what would it have been like, if it had ever been my turn?
