Just to be transparent, dear readers, I ended things with Kevin.
It just wasn't the right fit. While I orient my whole professional life toward the belief that people can grow, can become better versions of themselves, the rules are different in my personal life. I have spent too much time in too many relationships believing that people will change. But they don't. Better now than later. Quick like a band-aide.
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I was talking to a friend the other day about deal breakers. You know: I feel like I want to say no, I don't have any deal breakers. I'm open-minded! And it just doesn't make sense to declare non-negotiables about a person you've never met. I maybe don't know what my deal breakers are because I don't yet know what specific blend of personality traits and values I may find in another person.
But there are a few things. I need someone with whom I can build a deep, meaningful connection. If you're so emotionally closed off that I can't ever really know you, then this isn't going to work. I need someone who cares about something. I'm not sure how much it matters what that something is -- just...something. I need someone who understands social justice work. They've got to believe that systemic injustice is real, even if they haven't dedicated their career to it. They've got to acknowledge that racism, sexism, classism, and homophobia are real, and fight against those things in themselves. I need someone with whom I'm physically compatible. This means we're attracted to each other, of course. But it also means that physical intimacy with each other meets both of our needs. I don't think it's irrational to want to build a picture of the kind of person you might want to be with some day. In fact, I think it's important to distill, if not deal breakers, then an idea what needs you hope will be met by a partner. Otherwise, you could end up stuck and complacent in an unfulfilling relationship -- and not doing that should be a non-negotiable commitment to yourself. A month ago I was driving with two of my friends at like six-thirty in the morning. We came to a four-way stop, right about the same time as a blue truck. The truck stopped briefly, then went through the intersection first.
"FUCK YOU, MAN!" I shouted. "Just FUCK you! FUUUUUCK YOU. MAN." My friend Tom leaned back in his seat and sucked in his breath. It was a little early to be shouting curse words. "Jane, I don't think he didn't anything wrong," he said. "HE DID EVERYTHING WRONG!" I yelled again. "All of the things that could be done wrong, he did them!" "Are you sure?" asked Tom. "I think he was there first." I began to laugh. Our other friend, Lynn, leaned forward from the backseat. "Was that R?" she asked. It was. R. If you're looking for a timeline, dear readers, R came before J. I might even say that R caused J. #rebound. R, then J, then a brief resurgence of R in which he ruined any hope of even friendship between us forever. That was December 15. I've only seen him twice since then: the intersection incident, and today. Can I admit something super pathetic? I go for a lot of walks around my neighborhood. That's how I do "exercise." For the three years I've lived here I've had the same circuit, which takes me right past R's house. It would be easy enough to avoid, but I still walk it. Not because I love those particular streets, but because I secretly (not-so-secretly?) hope that I'll see R. Today I did. And I panicked a little. He was digging into his stupid blue truck, probably getting ready to go fishing or something stupid like that. I genuinely don't think he saw me. My stomach dropped a little, and I kept walking, faster, until I was over a hill and out of sight. I stopped and looked behind me toward his house. I wanted to walk back, walk right up to him and....what? Tell him I think he's an asshole? I already did that, in person on December 15th and in a series of scathing text messages sent December 16th. Texts that I now regret deleting, because they represent some of my most specific and well-written prose.There's nothing left to say. So why am I still thinking about it? Why, when a perfectly nice man (let's call him Kevin) is telling me how excited he is to see me next week, am I thinking about R? I want, no I need, to move past this. How? |
JaneHi, I'm Jane. I go on dates. Archives
December 2018
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