Not Being Chosen Was My Freedom

🔥 His “almost” love taught me to never settle for anything less than all-in.

Sometimes the hardest truth is this: not being chosen doesn’t mean I wasn’t enough—it just means he was the wrong man for me. And, once I finally let go, I set myself free.

It’s been 14 months since I last tasted his tongue, and I’m done waiting for promises that were never real. I want the love where the fireworks never end, where even a fingertip sends shivers, where we can’t keep our hands off each other and love the ordinary moments just as much.

That kind of love isn’t easy to find—but when it happens, it’s worth every kiss, every laugh, every tear. And until my true love finds me, I’m going to enjoy every second of the freedom that comes from walking away from the wrong one.

There is a particular kind of ache that comes from giving all of yourself to someone—and still not being chosen. For a long time, I twisted that pain inward, wondering what I lacked, what I could have done differently, what part of me wasn’t enough. But the truth is, not being chosen doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me. It simply means I was wrong for him. And if I was wrong for him, then no matter how much my heart ached, he was wrong for me.

That realization didn’t come overnight. It came after months of holding on to a love that existed only on my side, after waiting for promises that were never kept, and after replaying memories of passion that I thought meant forever. Tuesday marks 14 months since I last tasted his tongue on mine. Fourteen months of remembering the way sparks flew, and fourteen months of facing the truth that those sparks weren’t mutual.

And so I let go. Completely.

The Hard Truth About Love

It isn’t easy to find your right partner. It takes more than chemistry. It takes more than love. A lasting partnership needs shared joy, common rhythms of living, the ability to love each other in the way each of you needs to be loved. It needs both fire and comfort. A relationship where you can laugh and play and kiss passionately in the kitchen one moment, and sit quietly holding hands the next.

The kind of love I dream of is one where you crave each other’s bodies for years, where even the brush of fingertips sends tingles up your spine. Where you memorize every inch of each other and still want more. Where a hug heals, a kiss deepens, and conversation flows whether you’re on a grand adventure or spending an ordinary day side by side.

That kind of love is rare. If it were easy to find, everyone would have it. But because it isn’t, it is worth waiting for.

The Courage to Let Go

What I have learned is this: even if you feel love that deeply, if it isn’t returned, you must walk away. Love cannot be sustained by one heart alone. No matter how hard it is, eventually you have to give up the dream of them. You have to let go of the memory and the longing, because holding on only keeps you from receiving the love that truly belongs to you.

For me, accepting that his feelings never matched mine gave me freedom. Freedom to stop clinging to empty words. Freedom to stop hoping for what would never come. Freedom to open myself up to someone who will love me as wildly as I love them.

What Comes Next

🔥 I’ll save my wildest love for the man who loves me just as wildly.

I know finding that kind of love won’t be easy. I may have to kiss a few frogs. But I’m not afraid. I’ll save the most special parts of myself for the right man—the one who deserves me, the one who loves me back in every way.

Until then, I’ll embrace this season of freedom. I’ll date, I’ll laugh, I’ll explore, I’ll play. And I’ll remain open and enthusiastic, because I know he’s out there. I know the one who is meant for me will find me.

And when he does, I can’t wait to give him all of me.

💋 I have let go, and now the door to my love is wide open—waiting for the man bold enough to walk through and claim every inch of me.

The fireworks haven't ended—they just weren’t meant for him.

💛 Honey