I’ve dated five people since quarantine hit. Dated may be a strong word. Tried to date seems a more accurate description. And honestly, I may be forgetting someone. It wouldn’t be the first time.
In 2019, I figured out what I bring to the table in terms of relationships. I learned what sort of partner I am: caring, romantic, communicative. I also learned that I may always mistake excitement for love, that being a writer means reading each page of a person, including the one’s that never make it to print. Astrologically, I’m a cancer. I wear my heart on my sleeve and can write a poem about anyone, especially the ones that don’t stay.
Spoiler alert, none of them stayed. The first one was thoughtful but closed off, so I pulled away. The second one wasn’t ready to stop focusing on themselves long enough to focus on a relationship. Which sounds like a dig, but it’s not. I think self-reflection is key to personal healing and growth, it was just disappointing our timing didn’t agree with one another. Numero tres was a man-child. Plain and simple. Number four was brief and a catastrophe and the fifth got scared and bolted.
That’s the lineup. I told three of them I loved them, and one was a lie. Turns out, knowing what you bring to the table isn’t the only useful bit of information when looking for a special someone and being ready yourself, emotionally and mentally, to commit to a potential partner does not magically open the door to the lineup of humans who are also in that boat.
I went through the five-stages of dating grief
Denial: I am ready to date even if all the signs point to how inaccurate that thought is.
Anger: Why is the universe out to get me? What is it trying to show me with all these humans who just don’t seem ready?
Bargaining: But what if I just try once more? Pretty please?
Depression: Well fuck. Is it me? I mean, I am the common denominator here. Maybe I’m the reason they aren’t working out.
Acceptance: Which brings us to the present and looks like me taking one whole year off from dating.
Now, I am not an expert in anything other than making a very strong cup of coffee, re-watching Gilmore Girls like a sport, and crafting metaphors for any given situation. So, this is in no way me suggesting that you follow this path along with me. Although you are welcome to, of course! This year is for me. Because, while all the stages were healthy, they unveiled a lot. The most jarring being my want to control the situation and the other person. I want it all to play out like a scripted movie scene without it feeling pre-destined. I believe that dialogue can help work through them just, “not feeling ready.” Raise your hand if you knew or have since learned that good communication does not fix all.
The fact of the matter is, I control no one but myself
Life is going to play out with or without my commentary and red notes in the margins. Fate is not knocking on my door requesting my edits. So, while I am not the sole reason the five above situationships did not work out, I am a component of them, the only component I have say-so over, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to look inward.
Many have dubbed this time to be a “no man plan” but I’ve had an overhaul of heteronormativity in my 26 years on this planet, so let’s call this, “a romance free year.” Truthfully, I’m scared shitless. I’ve sought out attention from others since I realized it helped take the edge off my self-deprecating behaviors while simultaneously adding to my anxiety, which means since middle school, roughly. It hasn’t even been a month and I am already feeling on edge.
Except, do you know why so many diets fail? (Not that we’re turning this into a commentary on fatphobia, which we could, and we should. But not now.) When you deprive yourself of what you want, you end up obsessing and stressing. “Bale and her co-authors hypothesized,” in the American Association for the Advancement of Science “that dieting leaves people more susceptible to the chronic stresses of everyday life, making even the strongest dieter yearn for a pint of ice cream or a hot, cheesy pizza.”
With that logic, I’ve entered this year flipping the script in my mind. I am not depriving myself of romantic relationships to try to keep the weight of emotional entanglements off, but rather I am choosing to refocus my energy on myself, my healing and my unique journey. I am a great partner and friend to everyone but myself. I want to change that.
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Written by Tori Muzyk
Illustarted by Francesca Mariama
