The content of this post has been weighing heavily on me for the past few nights. I finally decided it was time to sit down and JUST WRITE IT. I don’t know why I agonize over writing so much. I’m a writer; it’s what I do for a living and what I believe is my gift. Sigh. Procrastination is such an odd thing, friends.
Given my tendency to make everything about our childhoods, this story probably begins years ago, but for the sake of efficiency, we’ll start with the recent past. And to fully understand why the latest turn of events stings so badly, I will give you some quick background info: I was in a serious relationship for over a year, that ended very suddenly at the end of September 2021. My ex, Ben* (aka “The 180”), got a new job in his hometown of St. Louis and moved away A WEEK after accepting the job, with (false) promises to move me there, too, then told me on FaceTime after I visited that he “didn’t want to live with me”, which truly broke my heart, honestly more than anything else that followed – and then a few days later, he ended a ONE-YEAR relationship via text. I know: what a great guy (sarcasm on steroids). Naturally what followed was what I have dubbed “heartbreak hell”: months of pining after Ben and reliving every moment of the relationship, wondering where I had gone wrong (you know, aside from dating him in the first place…); trying to keep in touch with him but realizing I was losing him more each time we texted, because he had already somehow moved on (how heartless can you be, Ben?), though I don’t actually have any concrete proof of said new girlfriend; getting incredibly sick which eventually led to a kidney infection; successfully finishing two marathons; running two 200+ mileage months; eating more ice cream and sour gummies than I can possibly describe; tears on tears on tears – and I am not normally a crier; reevaluating my life goals (chief among these: I had the grand epiphannie that I absolutely do not want kids and wow, am I ever grateful that I didn’t accidentally procreate with Ben!); going back to the drawing board and reexamining my standards and criteria for a significant other; and of course, getting back out there to date again. And my goodness, that alone has been quite an adventure, friends. More on that in forthcoming posts. You’ll want to bring a bowl of popcorn.
The next part of our Cliffs Notes run-down involves a man I met in January, Eric*, who checked all of my new and existing criteria: he was much older; very successful; incredibly handsome; he smelled amazing; he was thoughtful and sweet and generous; we had easy conversations that just flowed, with plenty of laughter. Simply put: we were having a lot of fun. We dated until March, when – while eating lasagna that I had made for him, of course, because really, what else would you cook for someone when they’re about to dump you…? – he told me he was leaving me for his alcoholic ex. Who, by the way, is in her late, late 40’s. This was my initial reaction: “So you’re leaving me, she who has her sober ducks in the same pond, for someone who is more than 15 years older than me? And still struggling to get sober? Seriously?!” Now, I should add, I have the utmost empathy for this poor woman, given what I went through myself and I am not at all judging her (how could I?!). I simply include this detail to show that it was indeed very baffling that he was running back to someone who needed to focus first on her own health, before getting back together with her ex-boyfriend. Needless to say, since I was really into Eric and loved our dates and our time together, I was pretty fucking bummed, disappointed, and mad that he would choose someone else over me, not to mention go back to this person. I would never go back to an ex so I cannot understand why people do that. I’m of the mind, “It didn’t work. Why on earth try again? Spoiler alert: it’s not going to be different this time…” Plus, he ended things with me in my own damn kitchen! I just sat at the table for a minute, head in my hands, and then eventually he left. I’ll spare you the rest of the drama. To summarize, we had “The Ultimate Betrayal” aka “Really Rough Rejection” in September, followed by the “Heartbreak Hell” rollercoaster of trying to move on and getting physically healthy after the array of illnesses and being knocked on my ass by the antibiotics and balancing the day-to-day demands of being an adult and getting back in the dating saddle, AND THEN yet another very unideal rejection, aka “Lasagna Letdown”, mere months later. I think you know where this is heading, which is yes, a “Rejection Pile-On”.
So, now that you’re all caught up… I met a guy, Sven*, in late April who was incredibly charismatic, tall, handsome, interesting, successful, confident, generous, and most importantly, we had a kind of familiarity that I haven’t experienced with anyone before, certainly not right off the bat. I truly felt like we had known each other before. To say the least, I was instantly drawn to him and immediately quite smitten. We talked on the phone and texted constantly (he was such an ideal correspondent and conversationalist), and went on a series of interesting, enjoyable, and downright funny dates. Sven definitely had “boyfriend material” written all over him. He was one of the most thoughtful guys I’ve ever known, which is one of the aspects I loved the most about him. He was always bringing me little gifts and snacks – he even showed up with two slices of (still warm) Whole Foods pizza without being asked. Mega swoon – because we all know the way to my heart is with carbs and sweets. And he bought me BioFreeze wraps for my injured hamstring. Please tell me what’s more sweet and thoughtful than THAT. I’ll wait. Then, he jokingly said on what turned out to be our last date that he thought we should just be friends. I was exhausted and had a migraine, so I didn’t fight him on it and just assumed it was, like most things he said, merely him messing around. But in the days that followed, he started texting me less and we stopped talking on the phone. I could feel him icing me out. Finally, about five days after his initial “I’m beginning to think we should just be friends” statement, I went ahead and texted him about it, because I was losing both sleep and concentration over the fact that I could tell something was amiss. His response really cut deep: he said, while we “connected on many levels”, I was “not his person”, but that he “wanted to stay friends”. My initial thought upon reading his text was, “BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE FRIENDS!”
Given that I am a deeply sensitive and introspective person, who is cursed with crippling anxiety, I thought about this text FOR DAYS. I read it about 100 times and I thought. about. every. little. thing. that. I. said. and. did. Because, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, that is just how I am and how I process any sort of rejection or change in the status quo of a relationship. And I hate it about myself. Finally, I realized, “You absolutely have to write about this” – because, let’s face it, I’ve been sleeping at the switch when it comes to blogging again and I clearly needed a kick in the ass some motivation.
And then I had a few ephiphannies – not all at once, of course. First, there was much moping and sighing and more moping and more sighing.
But these takeaways are as follows:
Rejection hurts worse right now because you haven’t healed from the previous rejections. I know it is going to take time to get over my ex, but more importantly, how careless and cavalier he was about throwing our relationship away. Ben abandoned me, although he doesn’t see it that way, and getting past that and forgiving him is not going to happen overnight. In the meantime, I think my best bet is to lower my dating expectations because, while I clearly WANT to find something serious again, I think I will continue to run the risk of getting burned over and over again until I can finally, truly let go of some of this hurt and anger. One of my absolute favorite quotes fits perfectly here: “If you never heal from what hurt you, you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you.” And friends, I am bleeding all over, metaphorically speaking.
You have to be enough for yourself. Annie, you have a damn “enough” tattoo on your ring finger, girl. BE ENOUGH FOR YOURSELF. And to anyone reading this, that’s my advice and direct order for you, as well. A significant other (a man in this case) is not going to complete you or make your life better. Sure, you’ll be less lonely perhaps – but you first have to be enough for yourself. I know, it’s freaking hard. There are Friday evenings when I’ll come back from a late run and it’s just me and Basil and it’s so quiet in the Bachelorette Pad, and I think, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” (No offense, Baize – but you know what I mean). However, it’s in those moments I have to remind myself how much I’ve grown as a person over the last 19 months, as I’ve navigated my sobriety and racked up all of the milestones, doing things like getting on an airplane sober, something that I NEVER imagined would be possible, and how much I make myself laugh and how much I truly love the person I’m becoming. Even if she is still a piece of work most days. And it is in those moments that I think, “I am enough for myself.”
It isn’t personal. This one is a little difficult for me to fully believe – because how can you NOT take rejection personally? Then I started thinking about the times I’ve had to turn a guy down because I just wasn’t that into him or I didn’t think we would be a good fit. Perfect example: in early January, a mere day after returning from Terra Germania for Christmas with the Z Clan, I made the mistake of going out with a guy without first asking the important questions such as, “So who did you vote for? And are you vaccinated?” You know, the questions you realize YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ASK after falling for the wrong person, who – oh, you know, just happened to be anti-COVID vaccines. To cut to the chase, this poor guy did not make it past the first date – and I remember how bummed he was, even texting me a few weeks later to “check in”. The point is, I have had to remind myself that I, too, have rejected people before – and I am certain that I have hurt someone’s feelings in the process. And it was most certainly not personal any of those times (well, with the Trumper it was, not sorry to say). Similarly, I have to believe it was not personal with these two most recent rejections. I do, however, believe that it was very personal with Ben, but that’s a story for another day.
The bottom line: rejection is rough – but it’s also unavoidable, as it is a reality both of dating and of life. And if I am going to insist on continuing to date, which clearly I am, then I have to accept that it’s just a part of the process, as unfortunate and painful as it might be. But I consider this most recent rejection a major win: because it finally inspired me to write again. So I can thank Sven for that – and also the pizza.
*names have been changed