In the last post, I was talking about the possibility of me dating again. I summed it up in the last post, kind of, but I’m going to break it down in this post, kind of.
Here’s the thing. I’ve mostly fallen into my romantic relationships in the past. Meaning, a romantic relationship sprang up out of a friendship. While I have a type (quick recap: short dark hair, nerdy glasses, warm smile, deep voice, square body (thick), a nerd in general, funny, and, weirdly enough, optimistic), it’s not something that I stick to in real life, mostly because as I said, friendship leads to romance, and I don’t restrict my friendships by appearance.
I didn’t really date, either. I started dating my first boyfriend when I was sixteen. That was probably the closest to dating I did. We lived forty minutes apart, so we only saw each other on the weekends. He was a sweet guy and extremely smart, and we dated for two years. That was the closest to a typical relationship I’ve had.
My first boyfriend in college, we were good friends who spent a lot of time together. He asked me out, and I said why not? That ended up being a really complicated relationship that turned me off dating, unfortunately. It also wasn’t typical in that we didn’t go out on dates, really. We just hung out like friends–except with romance included.
I have always been good at sex. VERY good at sex. My motto was that I’d try (almost) anything once. Unless it was truly something I could not stomach, I was good to go. And I liked most of what I experienced. Sex is amazing! Sex is awesome! Sex is life-affirming!
Romance and dating, on the other hand, were hard. The examples I had in my childhood were terrible, and I was deeply and negatively affected by them. I was brought up in a cult-like church that was heavily sexist, conservative, evangelical, and fear/shame-based. Plus, Asian culture is deeply sexist in a different way to American sexism. So I got so much sexism shoved at me on a daily basis.
It’s hard to unlearn that stuff. And I noticed in my last relationship (about fifteen years ago) that I still immediately fell into my traininng as a subservient woman whose only purpose was to please the man* within my vicinity.
I hated who I became, and I realized that dating wasn’t worth it to me. In adidtion, I like being on my own. A lot. If I’m going to be around someone for a significant amount of time, it had better be a very positive experience. I like to say that I’m the cake and the other person would be the frosting. Meaning that the would be additive and not part of the substance.
For most of my twenties, I tried to pretend that I did not want to be in a relationship while I desperately wanted to be in a relationship. With anyone. That was the problem. I was looking for a relationship to fill the hole inside me. Just as I used dieting (anorexia and bulimia) to fill that same hole. If I could be a size zero, then my life would be complete. I did wear a size zero for some time–and it did not make me feel better about myself.
The same when I was in a relationship. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed some of those relationships very much. But they were always work, and I was always afraid of saying/doing something wrong. I am that way when I am out and about because I know that I need to keep my mask on–and I’m not talking about my COVID mask.
I could never sleep well when I was dating someone because I snore up a storm. I’m so loud! Also, I really don’t like sleeping with someone for several other reasons. I don’t sleep well; I don’t like touching someone as I’m trying to sleep; I’m way too conscious about my space being hogged; etc. I remember one ex liked to snuggle as he was falling asleep, which I didn’t really care for myself. I don’t remember if we had any discussions about it, but we did eventually settle on a ritual. He would lie facing away from me. I would curl him as the big spoon, but not press my full body against him. I would lie a few inches away and then put my hand on his shoulder. I would wait for him to fall asleep before carefully disentangling myself.
One night, just as I was going to move away, he cough, then turned into my hand. I froze, not knowing what to do. I did not want to wake him up, but I also did not want to stay like that for much longer. thankfully, he moved back to his normal position in seconds, and I could safely roll away from him.
I will say that I realized when I was in my thirties that I did not want to get married. Mostly beacuse I did not want to live with someone. K tried to argue with me, saying that being married did not mean you had to live together. She’s right, but it’s not very common to marry and live in separate abodes. Also, I didn’t see the reason for getting married (except legally, and you can do that with a lawyer, I assume) because I’m not much into those kinds of rituals.
Also, roughhly a decade later, I realized that I was not monogamous. I should have realized it much earlier, but that bit of societal norm was so hard to shake. I read about a concept called ‘compersion’, and here’s my interpretation of it. At its base, it’s the opposite of jealousy. Most people define it at feeling joy when you witness your partner interacting with one or more of their other partners.
That’s not exactly how I use it, but it’s close enough. My definition is that something that makes my partner happy makes me happy. That includes another person, but I would not say that specifically makes me happier than other things making my partner. That is a hot mess of a sentence, but I hope it makes sense.
Basically, if my partner tells me something that is bringing them joy, that makes me happy. I may not get giddy (something commonly cited in compersion), but I start smiling with my whole body.
Something K and I talked about decades ago was how we weren’t jealous people, but a partner doing something with another person that we especially like was what sparked the jealousy. It’s more about a partner not taking care to do the thing I love doing with me, but will do it with another person.
In general, though, I don’t see how other people’s relationships have anything to do with me.
That’s a huge topic, though, so I will save it for tomorrow.
*not that specific man, but any man