Confessions of a Little Thirrrsty *****

Recently, I’ve been more intentional about keeping these powerful words close to my heart. While I appear to be a **** off-faced bitch most of the time, I have the tendency to be more empathetic than I should be. I know this may come off as a passive-aggressive “take this hint” sort of post, but it’s not directed to anyone in particular. I have been very fortunate to identify people and experiences in a truer light since coming out of my recent season of depression. I’ve invested so much time and energy into people who only took from me while I spent less time focusing on those who bring so much light into my life. There’s a part of me that still longs to be validated by people who make me feel insecure. This level of desperation has driven me to all sorts of dark places that always led back to feeling unworthy. Although I didn’t recognize it before, I can clearly recognize seasons where I acted and felt as if my only purpose was to occupy space.

As I move forward in my 30s, I’ve been redirecting my energy towards the people who have been consistent and away from those who only brought sadness in my life. While I love these people very much, I also recognize that it’s time to love myself a little bit more. Self-respect is an ongoing lesson for me. Although I’ve come very far throughout the years, I know there is still so much more to learn.

On a flight back home to LA several years ago, I saw “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. It was a random choice, which unexpectedly shifted the trajectory of the way I choose the people I let into my life. In one scene, someone said, “We accept the love we think we deserve”. I started bawling uncontrollably. I sat next to someone I didn’t know and he looked uncomfortable as ****. I didn’t care. I cried HARD. I absorbed my tears and everything disgusting with my cardigan sleeve and couldn’t stop. While I didn’t know it at the time, those simple words began to plant seeds in the way I accept love.

The truth is that I don’t know how to receive authentic romantic love. Although I’ve been very fortunate to feel very loved by my parents, some extended family and friends, I’ve never felt truly loved by a romantic partner. I felt cared for, but never truly loved. I personally don’t believe humans are capable of “unconditional love”, so I’ve long left the idealistic notion that romantic comedies hold any truth. At the same time, I know there is a level of love that many couples share. Things like taking someone out out to dinner, celebrating anniversaries, pick-ups at the airports, etc. are like unicorn poops of love in my mind. I know people experience it out there. I see it a lot, but I’ve never experienced it.

At 32, I’ve never had a real boyfriend. I’ve had sex. I’ve dated people. I’ve kissed people (both men and women), but I’ve never sustained a relationship that involved “this is my boyfriend”. It’s always been one wreck after another. My first “boyfriend” told me that his Mom advised him to stop dating me because I’d probably have to use a wheelchair someday. He was also a Little Person, which made his confession exponentially more surprising and devastating. He was the LAST Little Person I dated. While I know it’s dumb to generalize, I was over it. I could sort of understand an average height man telling me that garbage, but it seemed really gross coming from people who I expected to be more open-minded.

The most significant person I’ve dated hid our (whatever the **** it was). He met my friends and I was introduced as “ohhh, uhhhh, this is my friend Diane” to his circle. Although we were never officially in a relationship and I never had a chance to call him my boyfriend, I was crushed to the core when he confessed that he had found someone else. By the time he admitted it (which I suspected), he had been someone else’s boyfriend for six months. I remember begging him to choose me. While my brain told me to move on, my low self-esteem kept me away from sensible decisions and I pined after him for years. I accepted the “love” I thought I deserved. In my mind, I deserved to be hidden and thrown away when someone better came along.

I haven’t attempted a “real” relationship since my heart was broken in 2008. I told people I wanted a relationship, but behaved like someone who chose men like disposable Glad Ware. I intentionally selected people who were emotional unavailable because I didn’t want to be disappointed when they inevitably grew bored of me. My friends know I’m ***ed up and date like a college boy with no romantic goals. I didn’t respect any of the men I dated. I enjoyed the attention and momentarily feeling pretty. I didn’t care that they used me. I was a little sad when they drifted away, but not nearly in the same way I had been heartbroken.

When I look back, I realize I never really wanted a relationship. I wanted to be with someone because it signified that I was accepted in this world. I equated someone wanting to be my boyfriend to feeling accepted in some regard. I dated in the dumpster (OkCupid, Match & Plenty of Fish) and didn’t have high expectations. I was also really lazy. If I found someone ok looking, I went out with him. Rarely did these men have any substance or wit. If sex weren’t involved, I wouldn’t waste my time feigning interest in their boring hobbies like playing video games or pleasuring their own buttholes (that doesn’t make me gay! ok!). Oftentimes, we were both seeking all the wrong things in each other.

For the first time in years, I’m comforted by being okay being single. Am I happy to be single? I might be. I enjoy not obsessing over someone replying to my texts or anticipating the inevitable “I started seeing someone and it’s serious” goodbye phone call. Yeah, I guess I still feel jealous when I see elaborate marriage proposals and feel a tinge of bitterness to receive no +1 on wedding invitations. Is it worth the exhaustion of a dead-end “relationship” that needs to die? Absolutely not. Would I be open to love? Yes.

At the moment, I’m not particularly interested in pursuing dating. Hawaii isn’t the best place to date anyway. People here are pretty ignorant or maybe I’m just undesirable as a person. One or both of those. I’m trying hard to shift my perspective and operate from a space of being worthy of reciprocal love. While I really miss the uncomplicated lifestyle of casual sex, I no longer feel fulfilled by it. Perhaps it’s my age, but casual sex isn’t appealing to me. It finally feels gross to me. I never thought I would abandon my old habits, but I think I’ve outgrown the tiresome feeling of inadequacy.

Who knows where my open heart will lead. It’s my hope that I attract a like-minded person who is ready, too. We’ll see.