art by  julia hava

art by julia hava

My fiancée and I met on Tinder in the summer of 2017. By that point, I had been single for about a year and a half. Josh, not so much. He was just 3 months out of a 4-year relationship that left him hungry for a lot of non-committal swiping. On our first night out we met for drinks, he showed me around crown heights, and I showed him that I could rap along to (most) of notorious thugs. A month in and lots of dates later I decided I couldn’t go on pretending to be my most controlled version of chill. All it took was one glance at a Tinder notification on his phone (locked screen people) for me to bring myself back down to earth and realize that this human could not give me the monogamy I was craving and knew I deserved. So, I did what my 22-year-old self still can’t believe I was capable of (ty therapy) and I bowed out of us dating as gracefully as I could muster, albeit through lots and lots of crying. Weeping if you will.

It was fucking hard. It was also the best thing I did for us as a couple. I put myself out there and I got hurt and then I put myself out there again -- for me. I put my long-term priorities first and although emotionally gut wrenching-thought I was going to vomit-prob lost 5lbs. at the moment, I gave myself my own validation. I was enough to walk away.

As for Josh, he called, and text and I agreed to see him a month after I had initially said deuces. Two weeks ago, he asked me to be his wife. Life is crazy and the world may or may not end in 2050 but one thing is for sure: what is meant for you will come your way however it’s meant to get there. In the meantime, love yourself as much and as hard as you can.