I’m done looking for love. Don’t get me wrong; I haven’t turned into one of those sad women who go around lamenting about how love is a myth and how all men are the same. Not yet. I still think that (some) men are magnificent creatures and it would be nice to have one of those on my arm.

What I am done with, however, is the excitement. The butterflies.The sweet-nothings and romantic gestures. In sum of it all, I’m done with ‘the thrill of the chase’. It’s no longer enough for me.

Before you jump to any conclusions, allow me to state that my decision was not born out of desperation. I’m not settling no. I still have high standards as regards the man I am going to promise to give my forever.

Of course, I realize that ‘forever’ is a very highly misused word. The more accurate promise (although I have my reservations about it) is the one that church people use; till death do us part.

There was a time in my life when it was enough (exciting even) to be over the sun burning with emotions and desire. Hurting. Bleeding. Longing. But all the while not knowing which direction the relationship was headed.

And I allowed males to take me on a wild emotional ride in no particular direction. Today he is telling you that he is lucky and thankful you picked him. Tomorrow he is telling you how lucky your future husband will be.

And because you’re scared to ‘rush him’, all you can do is smile and cross your fingers, hoping he will want to be the lucky man. You tell yourself that it should be enough to live in the moment because he wants to be in that moment with you.

But I am done with that. I can no longer spare the extra energy to dress up for dates or flirt or have the phone burn my ear all in the name of lengthy conversations if it isn’t with a man who wants to wife me.

I know, I know. Someone has to get to know you before they decide they want to have a relationship leading up to marriage. But isn’t that the purpose friendship is supposed to serve?

And I’m not talking about friendships with strings attached. I’m talking about the kind of friendship that does not allow for expectations or jealousy or entitlement.

Why should I be tethered to someone and consequently accommodate their tantrums in the event that I can’t be available at their beck and call when they can’t so much as define what we are?

Why should I sacrifice anything, including nice dinner dates with other males, for the one that won’t clearly state his intentions with me?

Therefore, until I know that your end game is to restore my mother’s faith in my promise not to shame her by "refusing to get a man”, kindly keep your place in the friendzone.

I am done kissing frogs.