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I got dumped Tuesday night.
This now former partner, Alabama D, appreciated me in ways and to extents no one has. Specifically — and I feel this somewhat typifies a lot of what was so unique and amazing about this relationship — he loved the way I dressed*. I remember reading a Reddit post about a man who frequently and very thoroughly appreciated the way his girlfriend dressed*. Someone commented, “What’s it like to be God’s favorite?” Reader, now I know. And now I also know that as it turns out, dressing well is not always enough to keep a man around.
Then Wednesday evening, I’m having drinks with a new/old friend. This friend brings up what he really liked about my first guide. Which was the very thing I really wanted to get across. I teared up. He said he didn’t know that he fully believes what I said. But he’d never thought about it before, and now he’s thinking about it. Which is exactly what I hoped would happen. He also described my writing as never beginning with “This is what is true.” He said it seems that I write about a topic mostly to figure it out for myself.
It was such a contrast. The guy who dumped me didn’t even read me, for the most part. He’s certainly never offered evidence that he understood me better for having read me. So there’s one person who deeply appreciates my sartorial choices. And another who deeply appreciates my writing.
Wednesday afternoon, between the dumping and the drinks, I had an hour-long phone call with my semi-platonic life partner. Among other things, I complained about having been dumped. I’m so frustrated that I can’t find anyone who is obsessed with my clothes and my mind.
Semi-platonic life partner tells me I want something very rare. That most people settle.
Then Wednesday night, run-walking home needing badly to pee after drinks, it occurs to me. It’s not the destination that I’m after. I mean of course I’d love a wonderful, fulfilling, meaningful romantic relationship where we’re fully obsessed and in love with each other and also helping each other achieve our life goals.
It’s the journey.
I can’t settle because I’m obsessed with what I learn about myself and learn to appreciate about myself when people learn and appreciate different parts of me. If I can’t have a single person who appreciates everything then I will have a person who appreciates one thing and another who appreciates another thing.
I had a feeling, from intuition and previous experience, that I could never have a life partner who didn’t read me. And now I have a better idea about why. Because, most likely, anyone who’d spend a lot of time with me without reading me isn’t curious enough about me and the things I’m curious about to sustain something long-term.
I had a feeling, from intuition and previous experience, that I could never have a life partner who didn’t love the way I dress. Who didn’t feel compelled to wax poetic about our love for each other after sex. Who didn’t want to fuck me every day at least once. Who wasn’t obsessed with me. Why? Because I don’t want to be bothered with anything else. That’s the most enjoyable part! For me, the difference between friends and lovers isn’t sex. It’s love. Specifically, it’s the being in love. The obsession. The romance. I’m unenthused about having any more lovers who aren’t in love with me.
Maybe, when I learn to love every part of myself, I’ll settle down with someone who only loves parts of me. But I wouldn’t bet on it.
For me, the greatest compliment isn’t “I appreciate this thing about you.” It’s “I’m curious about this thing about you.” It doesn’t flatter me to hear someone say “You’re a talented writer” after having read a few posts. I’m most flattered when someone reads a bunch of my posts and tells me they have mixed emotions. I care much more about being compelling than I do about most anything else.
Similarly, “You’re good in bed,” is nice to hear. But someone showing up and initiating sex over and over again in an effort to learn and explore with me is the greatest compliment I could ever receive.
No compliment could ever flatter me as much as a great question.
It occurred to me that I already love myself truly, madly, deeply. I’m already obsessed with myself. I’m extremely curious about myself. I desperately want to know myself better. I’m actively making choices in dating that help me get to know myself better.
Sometimes people aren’t curious about aspects of me because they’re bored. Other times they’re not curious because they’re scared. What I notice is that I’m often too afraid of myself to fully explore certain aspects.
I’m not settling for someone who is too bored by or afraid of certain aspects of myself to be curious about them because I am not settling for being someone who is bored by or afraid of certain aspects of myself.
I’m choosing to surround myself with people who are curious enough about me to be compelled and compelling enough to me to keep me curious about them.
That I keep trying to be more fully explored is a testament to my fundamental belief that I’m worth exploring. There’s no greater compliment that I could give myself than that I’m demonstrably worth learning more about.
More than once, I’ve gotten so heartbroken after a breakup that I’ve considered going on Prozac to dull my libido. But this time, I feel so different. The goal isn’t to find a life partner. I don’t need any one person to be super curious about every part of me. And I’m not broken because I can’t get anyone to. My goal is to romance myself. To learn myself. To explore myself. The goal is to not let boredom or fear keep me from knowing myself.
If other people show up and seem willing to help, all the better. And if I can help them explore and learn and love themselves, what a gift for us both.
But love is not a destination. It’s not a goal. It’s a never-ending process. It’s curiosity, discovery, growth.
*[CONTENT WARNING do not read this] he was actually extremely vocally into the way my pussy smells
Highway run