I’ve never been in love. Well. Maybe that’s not true. I think I may have been. But what I mean to say is I’ve never uttered those beautiful, ominous, synergistic three words — “I love you” — to anyone of the male species before. Besides my dad, who doesn’t count.

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When I was a little girl, I had the whole “I’ll meet my Prince Charming as a young woman and live happily ever after” mentality.  Then, of course, came the wedding in a little white chapel (no, not the one in Vegas) and the family in the house with the white picket fence. And naturally, for all of this to happen, first I would have to date someone who was perfect. And preferably meet him when I was young. Dating just did not work out that way for me…

In grade school, the first boy I had a crush on, the first boy EVER to not have cooties in my mind, threw mulch at me. That sucked.

In middle school, the first boy I had butterflies for didn’t like me (I think) because I was awkward. I was in that do-I-wear-a-camisole-or-a-Limited Too-training-bra-or-no-bra-at-all phase, and BOY was I ugly. I don’t blame him; my neon green and pink rubber braces were heinous. That also sucked. (But, come on now, HE was the one with frosted tips…)

In high school, the first boy I really truly liked chose my best friend. And obviously, that really, really sucked. Then, I was nearly voted “Bachelorette for Life” as my senior superlative; I decided it was time to go to school in the South, where I heard the “MRS” degree was just as attainable as a job working the drive-thru at Burger King.

And in college…well…in college…it was a time and hodgepodge of likes or loves or whatever word we Generation Ys call our lust for someone we have grown-up butterflies for…I liked a LOT of people. Boys who wore kilts, boys who played lacrosse, boys my younger brothers’ age, boys who were Greek, boys who were non-Greek, boys I’d casually DFMO (dance-floor-make-out) with, boys I sincerely, madly, deeply cared about, boys who had perfected the art of “special” brownies, boys who treated me like shit, boys who treated me like a princess, boys who could skateboard, boys who owned puppies, boys of foreign ethnicities — I liked them all.

And yet, I’m still single. In that eclectic mix of likes (and nearly love), I could never muster the courage to say those three elusive words. Was I scared? Did I just not feel it? I’m not sure.  

My closest friends and family would tell you that I’m the kind of person who wants to be, and who should be in a real relationship. I’m fiercely loyal and monogamous and not the one to enjoy a casual hookup. But even more so, I’m ready (and I have been for quite some time now) to share what I have with someone else. And receive the same in return.

Yet a relationship, one that exists not just through sporadic texts and drunken nights, has just not happened yet. But in all this dysfunction and chaos (and on the positive side, lack of a truly broken heart), I’ve learned one thing: The Prince Charming Plan isn’t how it should be. It isn’t how it has to be.

For some, yes. (You lucky bitches.) But for others — and I’d guess most — you can empathize with my story.

The Prince Charming Plan has been pretty much thrown under the bus in our 2014 world, one monopolized by technology, where “dating” means a “Hey, what’s up, what are you doing tonight” text (without a question mark, may I add, to indicate lack of interest), or a 3 a.m. booty call or a nudie Snapchat (and….just how many people received that Snap?).

Plans mean shit at this point. Who cares if our parents were married fresh out of college at 22? Why would it matter if you got married at 20, 30, 40 or even 50? The notion of femininity and chivalry has been uprooted; and no, I am not saying chivalry is dead but it has changed as women’s desires to want and do more has increased.

Leo Burnett Chicago, the advertising agency at which I work, recently released a website called Humans Being: Relationships, a cultural exploration about modern day romance. And what it has found is that the whole notion of “first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage” does not exist anymore. (Click here to view the research and other quotes, interactive infographics and even Spotify playlists that represent each step of a relationship.)

Was I surprised? No. Relieved? Slightly. Excited? Absolutely. What defines a relationship these days is so ambiguous, so abstruse, and probably the “grayest” it has ever been, such that nobody can pinpoint what it means.

But it’s okay. Who even wants outdated, obsolete love advice these days when nobody knows where a “relationship” is going to lead? The only love advice I can give you (and take it or leave it, because God only knows I am an amateur when it comes to dating) is to go with your gut. Like a lot of people. Love some. Get hurt. Have fun. And one day, the cards will align and your own, perfectly catered-to-YOU Prince Charming will come along.