There has been some debate among my best friends and I over whether I am, in fact, "A Carrie" or if I have transitioned fully and permanently into "A Samantha". A sexual liberation and absolute disdain for the policing of women's sexuality in recent years has made me more Samantha than ever, but oh when it comes to love? I am still the woman who can't help but wonder... 

A brief history: I have been known to be somewhat of a commitment-phobe. Though, I much prefer the reframed perspective that I am not in fear of commitment, no, I revere it so much that I am simply commitment cautious. It takes me quite some time to swallow role of girlfriend. My last relationship was a bit tricky because it was with another woman, my first of the sort. Bombarded with questions of "what am I?" I shrugged off all the labels like 'lesbian' or 'bisexual' or even the popular yet non-descript 'heteroflexible'. Instead, I simply proclaimed that I was in a same-sex relationship. I was not sure why that had to change anything about who I was or what I called myself. For most that explanation beget an eye roll or a mumble under the breath "fucking millennials". I was not trying to be defiant or difficult, I simply didn't feel any different. 

When that relationship ended, most everyone, self and my ex-girlfriend included, thought I would go back to men. Being the processor that I am, I thought intently about why, after a wonderful experience with a woman would I switch it up...again? Energy. Something that she and I discussed early was how the energy between us was something we both had to get used to. For as strong and determined a woman I am, I am highly attracted to someone who can tell me "No". I never took the word seriously coming from her. And whether it was social conditioning or biological predisposition, that balance of feminine and masculine energy with two women was something I never got used to. Though, it was not why our relationship ended. That part is private. I bring up the energy part, though, because I believe it to be at least some part of why I'm now scratching my head about men. 

Feeling more in tune with myself than ever, I find that when it comes to men, I'm not as assertive as I'd like to be. I am far too forgiving. I'm far too accommodating. I'm far too...needy. I find myself asking where I used to proclaim, or holding my breath where I used to be unbothered. I AM someone who is looking for love. Not actively, perhaps, but eventually. Real love. Ridiculous. Inconvenient. Consuming. Can't-live-without-each-other love. I want someone whose day feels incomplete without hearing my voice. I want someone who doesn't require me to be strong and is strong enough to hold me when I'm not. I want to feel them look at me and smile for no reason. I want unnecessary touches in innocent places just to be sure of me. I want someone who listens to the spouting of my dreams and who keeps dull pencils beside my side of the bed. I want someone to accept me for who I am, knowing that I am always becoming, evolving, and refining. I want to travel. And I want someone who wants to see the world with me.  

I don't want to compete. Well, I don't compete. I have come second (or third, or fourth) to things that wouldn't even make my top ten. I accepted those positions hoping I'd move up. I never did. I have also been put on a pedestal, which may have been worse. I can never again be someone's umbrella, teddy bear, role model, and care taker. Not unless I birth them. I had an ex ask me to just be happy for them because the world made their day difficult enough. Do you know what kind of burden that is?! To feel as though your mood will make or break the spirit of the person you love? It is a prison.  

Now, I feel like I should come with a disclaimer warning. If you have no intentions of loving me well and completely, please leave me alone. A long time ago I told my friend Kendra that she had to be careful of her light because being in receipt of her love felt so damn good, people who didn't deserve a fraction of her affection were thriving on her sustained shining. Now, I have to tell myself the same thing. My love is too LIT to be thrown back in my face.  

Where perhaps I have transcended the characters of Carrie and Samantha, is in my gift of goodbye. Anyone I ever loved, I still do. I likely always will. I wish people around me well, even if I don't fuck with them anymore. The small somethings, forehead kisses, shoulder rubs, first dates on navy ships, margaritas and making out...it all still means something. Just perhaps, not everything. Not an indication of forever. Just a bit of something wonderful for right now. 

I tell my best friends that they're my soul mates. That someone will have to love me better than they have to truly keep my attention. The truth is, I am not sure if that ever happens. What I do know is, Dom will always tell me he loves me, and when he arrives and departs the country. Jennie will always send me books to read, and keep her phone on even when she works weird hours just in case I need to call her. Brenda and Kim will always encourage my creativity and tell me when I'm being too outlandish. Emma will call my ego to the table. Tyree will never let me get away with the benefit of the doubt. Why would I expect anything less from someone who wants to be my partner in life?

Here is what I know. And what I learned from my friends...when someone is important to you, you show up. In whatever way you can, you do it not out of obligation and not because it's the right thing to do, you do it because love won't let you be in a position to help without helping. Love doesn't ask for appraisal or applause. Love simply is. And because it's energy, it's exchanged but never destroyed...or created. So perhaps when I noticed that the love just isn't there, I should take note. Who would do that? Carrie or Samantha? That might be a Jessica thing.