Relationships are fucking hard. Starting them, maintaining them, and sometimes ending them. It’s even harder when you’re limited to 10% of the dating pool. As a queer person, how do you find a good, healthy, long-term relationship?

Right after I moved to New York City, I found a psychiatrist. He was terrible. I told him that I was gay, and that I had been in a long-term relationship for the last five years. He said that surprised him, since he’s seen queer clients in the past, and their relationships usually didn’t last.

It’s not that he was wrong — I actually agree with him. We commit too fast, or we don’t commit at all. What made him terrible was his resignation to that belief. I was just another dumb kid deluding myself.

I keep coming back to a piece Michael Hobbes wrote for Huffington Post’s Highline called “Together Alone: The Epidemic of Gay Loneliness.” Hobbes writes that living in the closet is traumatic, and even if you come out, you carry the weight of that trauma your entire life. As a result, we suffer — gay men, for example, are more likely to commit suicide, suffer from mental illness, and have physical ailments like cardiovascular disease, cancer, incontinence, asthma, and erectile dysfunction. No wonder it’s hard to find a mate.

I’ve been single for a year, and I’ve dated new people for half that time. It’s exhausting. A couple weeks ago, I told my therapist that I was excited since I made it past the one-month mark with a guy. He dumped me three days later.

I’ve come up with a million reasons why dating hasn’t worked out, and I always blame myself. “Maybe I’m addicted to love.” “Maybe I don’t focus on myself enough.” “Maybe I chase the wrong men.” They’re all true, but I'm not 100% at fault. People treat me like shit, and I excuse it.

I’ve made a lot of positive changes since I became single. I clean every day, I do a lot of self-care, and I’m forming a nonprofit. I also gave up dating apps, which makes finding a relationship a pain in the ass. But I can't go back to them.

A lot of people have found love off apps, and I’m happy for them. But apps also encourage people to treat others like objects, which can lead to sex and love addiction. Early on in “Together Alone,” Hobbes talks with a gay man named Adam who experienced this:

“There are people who have lots of sex because it’s fun, and that’s fine. But I kept trying to wring it out like a rag to get something out of it that wasn’t in there—social support, or companionship. It was a way of not dealing with my own life.”

I can relate — not necessarily to the sex, but the need for companionship. When you grow up denying who you are — the kid who plays with Ken dolls; who walks down the bus aisle while classmates on either side chant “Aaron’s gay!” at the top of their lungs; who is a sensitive, caring person — your heart tends to get a little hollow.

A relationship is not going to solve that problem, but it can help. Queer people deserve to love and be loved in return, and I'm no exception. “It’s gonna take the real work,” as Beyoncé sings. And time — lots and lots of time. It terrifies me. But it's something I want more than anything else.

I’m done accepting the love I think I deserve. I’m ready for the real thing. I hope someone else is, too.