How to Not Find True Love in 27 Days

When my roommate first advised me to try the “love spells,” I laughed. I’m a 33-year-old woman with a cat and dwindling fertility and I’m on Tinder. Either no magic can save me or it’s the only thing that could.

The “love spells” are what my roommate calls an online course called Find True Love in 27 Days. Each day, a woman named Ellen Whitehurst sends you an affirmation to write in red ink, a journal prompt, and a “tip of the day,” which involves a lot of symbols, essential oils, and burning candles.

The thing is, the love spells had worked for my roommate. I remember burning red candles in front of a photo of an exemplary couple, her going on her first date with Sam, and now, two years later, they’re living together and in love.  

Whining on the phone to her about my latest bad date, she suggested it again.

“You should do the love spells. It’s mostly about the affirmations, anyway.”

I do own a deck of tarot cards, three books explaining how to read them, and a small collection of crystals. But I don’t believe in magic. I believe a tarot card reading, when done over a bottle of wine with a friend, offers the opportunity for guided self-reflection. I believe crystals can serve as talismans for the intentions you set. Neither summon higher powers so much as channel the power of the mind.

For my August birthday last year, I wrote down a list of wishes and goals, including one to have romantic feelings for someone again. It had been so long since I had had them, for anyone at all. By November, I did. Though the experience was short-lived, I got what I wished for and was ready for more. In January, I set my sights on the next step: having a boyfriend. By March, I did. By June, I didn’t but given these clear demonstrations of strength from my powerful mind, maybe the idea that affirmations – aka love spells – could bring love into my life was not entirely laughable.

So, I paid the $10 to make Ellen my guide.  

My trouble began with the journal prompts. Each one asked me to contemplate the characteristics of my perfect partner/lover/soulmate. What does he look like? What is his background? What kind of work does he do? What does he like to eat? I don’t particularly care what sports my partner likes or whether he’s from the suburbs or the city and as I combed through all the possible doll parts with which to construct my ideal man, I found myself recalling all the good things about my ex-boyfriends. Needless to say, I usually try to maintain focus on the opposite.

I also chafed at what my answers might say about me. If I want my partner to have a college degree, does that make me elitist? If I want him to be tall and handsome, am I shallow? But then it occurred to me that my hesitation to define my ideal partner could be part of my problem. Without a firm checklist, maybe I’m floating in space, willing to date anyone but without a standard by which to evaluate them. Maybe by asking me to describe what my future husband will be wearing on the day we meet, Ellen is steering me to discover what characteristics are truly important.

I gave in. My perfect partner has brown hair, is taller than me, and possesses strong hands and an appetite. He isn’t allergic to cats and has good teeth. He laughs at my jokes.

My next challenge was one of resources. Do you have any idea how expensive patchouli oil is? One “tip of the day” called for a cup of uncooked white rice and a half cup of kosher salt to be sprinkled in every corner of the house. This was simply too much food waste for me, so I skipped it. I also skipped the warm bath of herbs and honey due to my fear of getting a urinary tract infection. My track record with the spells was poor and my chances of finding love seemed low.

But at least I had the affirmations, each to be written in my own hand at least once but no more than nine times a day. This was the most critical part of the process. Sample affirmations included “I AM an irresistible magnetic current and draw to me my own” and “I have a wonderful love in a wonderful way and my wonderful love has come to stay.” I didn’t always understand the meaning of the affirmations, but I still did them. They had a quaint retro quality to them that made it easy to imagine Bridget Jones shouting them while attempting calisthenics and, at this point, she and I are essentially the same person.

Somewhere after the eighth day of spells – more actual days had passed, I just hadn’t been diligent about my love work – I received two texts from numbers I didn’t have saved. They were from old flings, popping back up after more than a year to see if I wanted to meet up while they were in town for a few days. I couldn’t help but wonder if playing fast and loose with Ellen’s magic had, in fact, cursed me.

I never made it to Day 27. I didn’t even make it to Day 12 and I haven’t found true love. On Day 11, Ellen directed me to hang a picture of a woman playing a Chinese lute in my living room and sing ‘Doe a Deer’ four times to “clear the way for my perfect partner to come calling.” I could not bring myself to do it. It felt desperate and I just didn’t believe it would work.

And yet, I think that anyone who would do this is surely is so motivated to find love that nothing could prevent it from happening. Maybe the reason I haven’t found love is that I don’t want it badly enough. I don’t want it enough to waste food, risk a UTI, or sing children’s songs to myself which, when compared to the ultimate prize of true love, are minor sacrifices. At the same time, to find true love I will spend hundreds of hours going on first dates, spend too much of my hard-earned money on drinks and tater tots to share, and risk having any feelings I develop not returned in-kind, which seem like bigger sacrifices.

Or, having made these sacrifices and not gotten the desired results, I’m now too skeptical. I committed to the love spells more as a bit to perform for my friends than as a true leap of faith. There wasn’t one part of the process that I didn’t have a problem with.

Of the two men who texted me at Day 8, I responded to one. We met for a drink and stayed for two and as we caught up, some of the judgements I had made about him the first time around started to shake loose. It’s possible that, like with the love spells, I had been quick to make a harsh appraisal.

Unlike with other things in life, I think seeking love only gets more difficult the more we attempt it because we don’t exactly get better at it and, after enough pain, we start to curl inward for self-protection. We see the weaknesses before we see the potential. We no longer spring for the tots to share. None of that will bring true love into our lives.

To follow through on each absurd task that Ellen put forth could mean you believe in magic; but it also means you believe in yourself that you can find love. I’m not going to return to the spells, but I will try to keep making an effort. I’ll try to keep an open heart.

And, as Ellen taught me, “I AM continually reaping the fruits of my words."