Tag: #dating

Defining “Us”

“When you draw a line in the sand, be careful it is not low tide.” – Dixie Waters

Note: Due to the nature of this article it will be rife with Polyamory terms. I have included the definition I use for each term below, rather than stopping to explain them in the article.

Every relationship is unique, and is defined by the people involved. In most monogamous relationships this definition comes from the individuals forming the couple, and may include influences from their culture, their family, or their friends. In polyamorous relationships there are more factors influencing how a relationship is defined; the type of polyamory you are practising, if there is a polycule involved, the configuration of the polycule, and the needs and feelings of any metamours in that polycule. All of these factors can make it very difficult to define what you are, both to each other and to the world. And it can make it even more difficult to grow and change into something new, as most relationships do.

What does defining your relationship mean, anyway? It is more than just the titles you chose for each other, if you decide to use titles at all. It’s how you interact with each other, both in private and in public; how much, or how little, of your lives you choose to share with one another; how much of your feelings and time you are investing in one another; and how much you decide to let this relationship impact all the other ones you have. It’s about who you want to be as a couple, and how much of a role this relationship will play in your life. It can be flexible, and will likely change over time, but it is an essential part of understanding where you belong with your other person, and with their other people. 

I started my polyamory journey practising solo polyamory, but since that time I have found a person who has become my nesting and primary partner. We came to that decision over time, with much discussion and testing of boundaries, and it is where we are now, but that does not mean it can’t or won’t change in the future. We both understand that relationships are fluid, and require growth, and adaptation. We also both realise that practising polyamory may mean that one day one or both of us may find another partner that fits as well or better than we currently fit each other. It doesn’t seem likely right now, but anything is possible, and part of the way we are practising polyamory is accepting that.

Now that we both have experience having other partners, who have other partners of their own, I am struggling with new questions. How big of a role do your metamours have in defining the relationships you are having with your partners? How much influence do they or should they have on who you want to be as a couple? How much consideration should you give them in the decisions you make as a couple, and how much consideration should they give you? Is it reasonable to expect them to consider you when they make decisions that could affect your relationships? And does the existence of a hierarchical relationship in the polycule mean that any other partners’ feelings, wants, or needs are less important, or can be ignored? 

One of the most important things I try to remind myself of is that my metamours have feelings and wants and needs that they are hoping to have met, and that they deserve compassion and respect, no matter what their relationship is to me or to my partner. Whether it’s a one night fling, an ongoing casual meetup, a deeper longer lasting relationship, or my partner’s primary partner, my metamours have a connection to my partners, and my partner has that connection to them, and those relationships and sets of boundaries and needs deserve my respect. 

My primary partner and I communicate very well, and have chosen to share our relationships with any other partners with each other. Whenever possible we plan our schedules around what works for our other partners. We discuss what is happening in our other relationships with each other, how activities or feelings are developing with those partners, if we are having concerns or doubts about those relationships, and if we have discovered anything new about ourselves from them. When needed we help each other out by talking out issues or giving advice on how to navigate any difficult conversations or situations with our other partners. This is not always easy, and has certainly resulted in some strong emotional reactions that we then have to work through, but it is how we have chosen to approach polyamory. And we always inform our other partners that this is what we do, so that no one is caught by surprise. 

This does not mean that this is how I expect to practise polyamory with my other partners. Would I like it to be? Of course. In my perfect world our full polycule would be in place where we could achieve something like Kitchen Table Polyamory, where any combination of partners and metamours could be spending time together at a party, game night, or other outing. Where we could all give each other advice or tips and tricks on how to make our relationships a little better, and our partners a little happier. Where we can work with our schedules to make sure everyone gets the time they need to grow their relationships. And where everyone involved is comfortable with this. Do I actually expect that to happen? Probably not. Because my wants and needs aren’t the only ones involved here, and because not everyone wants or needs what I do. Some people prefer to keep their worlds separate, to keep one or more relationships separate from the others. Some people do not desire the level of sharing that I do. Some people prefer to work things out for themselves rather than as a group. Some couples prefer to keep their relationship between them, and not share the details of it with others. All of these choices are valid, and deserve the same level of respect that my choices do. 

So how do I define my relationships with my partners? Mostly by asking a lot of questions. I need to know what their wants and needs are, if there are any restrictions on the energy they have to give our relationship, if I should expect sudden changes in schedules or time available, if there are other relationships that will take priority over ours, if there are other demands in their lives that need to be met, what the comfort level is of any metamours involved,etc. I also need to be clear with what my wants, needs, and availability are, and any ways I expect my other relationships to affect this one. When it comes to polyamourous relationships, it’s less about waiting to see how things shake out and more about discussing as much as possible so everyone is going into things with their eyes wide open.

Terms:

Polycule: A network of people who are involved in non-platonic relationships and their metamours.

Metamour: One’s partner’s partner, with whom one is not directly involved

Solo Polyamory: An approach to polyamory that emphasises autonomy and the freedom to form relationships without seeking permission from other partners.

Nesting Partner(s): The partnership(s) that live(s) together, could include 2 or more, and may share financial responsibility of the home.

Hierarchical relationship: A polycule configuration in which there is a primary partnership which takes priority over one or more secondary arrangements.

Primary Partner: In a hierarchical relationship, the partnership with the most involvement, or sometimes the person accorded the most importance.

Secondary Partner(s): In a hierarchical relationship, the partnership(s) in which either by intent or circumstance, are given less in terms of time, energy, commitment and priority than a primary relationship.

Tertiary Partners(s): In a hierarchical relationship, the partnership(s) that are generally quite casual, and/or limited with respect to time, energy, or priority.

Kitchen Table Polyamory: everyone in the polycule is comfortable sitting together at the kitchen table, talking or spending time together, and including each other and possibly children in special events such as birthdays. 

Chasing That Rush

“Every time I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down, ‘cause I just can’t wait till you write me you’re coming around” – Katrina and the Waves

I love dopamine. For those who aren’t the research nerd that I am, dopamine is a neurotransmitter that plays a role in how we feel pleasure. It rewards us for pursuing things we don’t have yet, and responds to things that are new or possible. It helps us think, plan, and focus. It affects learning, motivation, sleep, mood, attention, and even pain. It fuels the parts of us that want to explore, discover, chase, find, have and try. And once we have done those things it stops, leaving us looking for the next new thing, our next big ‘hit’.

I’m not rich enough to be a shopaholic, I don’t do drugs, and I’m not jumping out of planes, but over the years I have stumbled onto another way to get that dopamine high – new relationships. The polyamory community refers to it as new relationship energy, but it is more commonly known as the honeymoon period. It’s that time at the start of any relationship where everything is new; new feelings, new stories, new experiences, new people, and in the case of romantic relationships, new sex.  There is a seemingly endless supply of new things to learn, explore, and discover about your new friend, partner, or potential partner, and that intoxicating feeling of connecting with someone new mixed with that rush of new hormones is hard to beat.

So what happens when that high wears off? 

Some people never stop chasing the high. We all know them. It’s that person in your life who makes a new friend or finds a new partner and suddenly their lives become entirely focused around that person. They will cancel existing plans to spend time with them, can’t make new plans without checking first to make sure that person isn’t available, and can’t seem to talk about anything but their new person when you finally do spend time together. Everything in their life becomes about this person. And then the dopamine wears off, the new person becomes less interesting, and they are back to being the friend you used to have. Until the next new person comes along.  

These relationships aren’t only hard on the chaser’s friends, they are also incredibly hard on the chaser’s subject, the focus of their excitement. For a brief period they get to feel like the most interesting person in the world. Like they have found someone who really sees them, likes them, and can’t get enough of them. Until suddenly they are gone. And the subject is left feeling rejected, alone, and in many cases confused about what they did that resulted in this change. And when both partners are caught up in the rush, and are both caught up in that excitement to the exclusion of everything else, it becomes even more complicated, because no one can really explain why things ended. 

I have been in all of these positions. I have been the chaser, I have been the subject, and I have been the friend watching this happen over and over and over again. I have hurt people, I have been hurt by people, and I have watched people I love hurt others and get hurt by others. And it sucks. No matter what position I am in, it sucks. Every time I would think “this one is different, this one will work out, this time the connection will last”. And it wouldn’t. Because even if the potential for real connection was there at the beginning it had been washed away by the flood of dopamine telling me to do everything and have everything and be everything right now. 

One of the most important things I have learned from my wasted years of immersing myself in that rush is to slow down. A lot. Not because I’m trying to ignore the dopamine, but because I’m trying to draw it out, make space around it, and allow actual feelings and connections to grow in that space. To enjoy the rush a little longer, but also to give my new relationships a chance to find a connection within that time that will carry on past the end of the rush. So that other different highs can follow it. Because as great as that dopamine rush is, it absolutely pales in comparison to finding people you really connect with, who actually get you, and who like you for who you are, not just for how you made them feel at the start. And as good as “new” is, attachment, companionship, and if you are lucky enough to find it, love, are so much better. Because once you find those connections you can find new ways to experience that dopamine, together. 

Marriage

“Happiness is only real when shared.” – Jon Krakauer

Historically marriages happened for a lot of reasons, most of them cultural or financial. Sometimes the couple in question had a choice and sometimes they did not, but very seldom did it matter to anyone if they loved or even liked each other. It was expected that at a certain point in life you would fulfill the social contract and enter into the transaction known as marriage. 

Today in most western cultures marriage is seen as the ultimate sign of love for your partner. In many cases there are still legal, social, and economic benefits involved, such as enlarging your family, combining resources to purchase and maintain property, or having the financial support to stay home and raise children, but those are now seen as the benefits of finding someone who you love enough to marry rather than the reason for marriage itself. It is no longer an obligation; now it is a desire. Plus you get to have a big party with presents and cake, and who doesn’t want that, right? 

I have been in love a few times, and at least once in love enough that I did everything in my power to be with that person for the rest of my life. It didn’t work out, but even when it still looked like it would somehow the topic of marriage never came up. Not because I was waiting for him to bring it up, but because it never really crossed my mind as something we needed to consider. We chose each other every day, we made plans for the future, we were happy, and that was enough for me. What could marriage give me that I didn’t already have? 

Over the last couple years a few very close friends have gotten married. These marriages did not occur because my friends are planning to have children, need financial support, are particularly religious, or felt some kind of cultural obligation to tie the knot. They happened because they wanted to be married, not because they needed to be. Because they love each other, and because expressing that love through marriage was important to them.

I love my partner. The reasons I love him could fill a blog post of their own, so I won’t go into that here. Our relationship is the healthiest one I have every been in; we support each other when it’s necessary, make room for independence when it’s not, question and challenge each other to ensure we keep growing as people, plan for the future and accept our pasts, live and own property together, talk about everything, explore new things, and have a fantastic sex and social life. I genuinely can’t think of anything we are missing, and I feel like the very best version of myself when I am with him. Looking ahead I can imagine situations that will present us with challenges, but if we continue as we have been I can’t imagine anything we can’t get through if we try. 

Does all of this mean we should get married? I honestly don’t know. I find the idea of marriage intriguing in a way I never have before. In the past it looked like a trap blocking a person from experiencing new things with different people. Being polyamorous any marriage I entered into couldn’t fall into the standard rules marriages have traditionally followed, which I think on some level is why I have never really wanted it. But what if we could write our own definition of marriage, and make our own rules about what that looks like for us? Create something that makes us both feel protected, loved, and heard, that still involves choosing each other every day, and that leaves room for us to have experiences outside of the two of us. Definitions and rules that grow and change as we do, evolving as our relationship does, supporting and nurturing each other without limiting one another. 

I don’t know if it’s possible, or if it’s different in any way that what we are doing right now, but it sure is interesting to think about. 

Requiem to 2020

Covid-19 has been in our lives for over a year now, and many of us are currently experiencing a second or third lockdown as cases around the world are on the rise. The promise of vaccination exists, but it could be another year or more before our population is protected enough for life to get back to ‘normal’. If ‘normal’ can even exist anymore. 

It’s impossible to say now what the long term repercussions of our first encounter with a global pandemic will be. Which leaves us in a very difficult place; only half way through a marathon period of fear, loss, and waiting, without even knowing exactly what we are waiting for. We are stuck pushing our way to an ending, without any guarantee of what that ending will bring, or when it will occur. So how do we cope when the world around us seems bleak, and we don’t know when the light will come again? How do we find meaning, happiness, and fulfillment in our lives when it feels like everything has come to a grinding halt? How do we get to the end of this race still feeling like ourselves?

I have seen many stories of people who have done wonderful things with this time. People who have learned to become amazing artists, chefs, or writers. People who have immersed themselves in health building activities, who have lost weight, gained muscle, or increased flexibility. People who have taken this time to educate themselves, improve their living spaces, or explore things they have never had the chance to explore before. People who have embraced this challenging time, faced it like warriors on a battlefield, and who have beat it into submission with their success.

I am not one of those people.

2020 was going to be a big year for me. After many years of isolation, a few more years of trying to find a way to fit into someone else’s life, and some time (finally) spent discovering what I wanted, I found myself starting 2020 happy with who I was, the people I had around me, and what my future held. I found hobbies that let me be creative and express myself, friends that embraced who I am and reciprocated by sharing parts of themselves with me, and a partner who was as excited to build a life together as I was. I had reached an age I had always dreaded but found an unexpected peace and acceptance with. My son was going to graduate, and we were going to have the opportunity to celebrate his transition from child to adulthood. I was going to have my first public speaking opportunity on behalf of this blog, and my first ever out of country romantic adventure. I was in the early stages of developing new friendships and relationships that showed lots of promise. And there were going to be several parties, conventions, concerts, celebrations, and get-togethers to help fuel my ever present need for new input. It was shaping up to be a big year. 

Covid-19 hit us in mid-March and everything changed. All of the things we were looking forward to, all of the get-togethers, trips, and events, became things we were afraid of. The simple acts of going to work, getting groceries, or putting gas in our cars became high risk, and introduced a danger into our lives we had never had to consider before. Instead of finding comfort or joy in other people, we had to be afraid of them. The freedoms we loved were now risks we weren’t allowed to take. And while there have been some short periods of relief sprinkled in, most of us have been living like this for the last year. 

Like many people I spent most of 2020 being reactive. I watched the news, followed the rules, and stayed home. My whole life became about watching, listening, and waiting for things to get better. Every time the case numbers went down I would get excited, and every time they went up I would get sad. I had endless discussions with people about how the pandemic was going, how it was affecting them, what the numbers meant, and when things would get better. It became an endless cycle of checking in and waiting, checking and waiting. And not once did I decide to take to accomplish something with all the time I now had. 

Does this mean I consider 2020 a lost or wasted year? Can I no longer consider myself a warrior able to take on any challenge that comes my way? Have I let this pandemic beat me?

No.

2020 was not the year I planned it to be, and I was not the person I always thought I would be in the face of crisis, but that does not mean it was wasted, or that I lost, or have been beaten. A lot of wonderful things still happened, and some of them wouldn’t have without the pandemic. I got to spend more time with my son than I would have otherwise, and was able to be there and help him through something that none of us have ever experienced before. My family had the opportunity to show him, and ourselves, that there are different ways than the ones we have always known to enjoy day to day life, celebrate accomplishments, and support each other through difficult times. My partner and I had more time together than we had ever had before, and had the opportunity to go through something truly difficult together. We learned to recognize, understand, and support stress in each other, which likely would have taken us years to do without something as impactful as a global pandemic. We found new hobbies to enjoy together, new ways to challenge and entertain one another, and truly learned how to relax into our partnership. I was able to reach out to friends and offer support, and in some cases was pleasantly surprised by who offered support in return. Some friendships were difficult to maintain at a distance and are in a holding pattern until we can see each other again, but others flourished in ways I don’t think they would have otherwise.

2020 was a difficult year, because it was a year I entered full of expectation. In the end 2020 taught me the value of embracing and enjoying the things I have right now, showed me the immeasurable love and support that surrounds me, and left me in awe of the way we are all able to adapt and grow in new circumstances. I am now ready to move on from mourning what 2020 could have been, and to more forward looking at 2021 with hope free of expectation.

Why Social Distancing is So Hard for Us

“Be kind, be calm and be safe” – Dr. Bonnie Henry

By now we have all realized that COVID-19 is in our lives to stay, at least for the foreseeable future. We aren’t looking at just a couple of weeks or months until things can go back to ‘normal’, but more likely another year or more until the world health authorities can develop and distribute a vaccine. Even then it may not be possible to go back to the ‘normal’ we had before we were forced to realize just how easily a disease can spread in our current society. The awareness of the danger, and at least some of the measures we have had to enact to manage it, are here to stay. So we’d better get used to them.

Some of these measures are easier than others. Washing or sanitizing our hands, reducing travel, and staying home when you or a family member are sick. They are simple to do, are only mildly restrictive, or are short term inconveniences that are easy to put up with for the comfort of feeling safe. Others are more difficult, and have long term impacts on our lives. One of those is social distancing.

The dictionary definition of social distancing is “the practice of maintaining a greater than usual physical distance from other people or avoiding direct contact with people in public places during the outbreak of a contagious disease”. It’s actual definition during this pandemic has become quite different. At this time in many areas of the world social distancing means staying home, only seeing the people in your household, and not going out for any reason. For some it includes going to work or the grocery store or for a walk, but wearing a mask and/or maintaining a 6-foot physical distance at all times while doing so. Even in areas where restrictions are slowly being loosened it means grad ceremonies, weddings, funerals, parties, concerts, and other events involving large gatherings of people are cancelled; some businesses like entertainment, community, or physical fitness based facilities are still shut down; and events with 50 or less people need to ensure physical distancing is enforced in order to be allowed. We are no longer able to spend time with the people we know in the ways we are used to, and our avenues for meeting new people have been severely limited.

Human beings are social creatures. Belonging is important to all of us, and we define ourselves based on the relationships we have with others. Have you ever tried to introduce yourself to a new person without including a common connection to someone else? Whether it is a family member, a friend, a partner, a coworker, a professional, or even a casual acquaintance, in most cases we build connections with new people in our lives based on connections we have with existing ones. We use who we know like references on a resume whenever we are trying to start a new relationship or join a new community. Our existing connections need to be maintained in order to stay relevant, and to help us get to new connections in the future. Even the most introverted among us want to belong to something or someone, and no one wants to lose what we already have.

The people in our lives help make us who we are. They bring us new input in the form of thoughts, feelings, or events, and we need that new input in order to grow as people. The conversations, emotions, and experiences we share with them provoke responses in each of us, and with each response we either confirm or learn something about ourselves. So what do we do when those webs of connection are gone, when we are limited to just the few people we live or work with, when the only way to maintain those other relationships is at a distance or through technology? When we can’t see or touch most people in person, when sharing thoughts and feelings becomes more work than we are accustomed to, and when we can’t rely on new experiences to bring us closer together? How do we hold onto the people we care about and continue to grow as people, when we really don’t know how long this new world we live in is going to last?

There are no simple answers to these questions, it is something we will all need to figure out for ourselves. For some of us limiting our bubbles has been beneficial; it has allowed us to value the people already in our lives even more, to explore aspects of ourselves we hadn’t gotten to yet, and to learn ways to get the new experiences we crave within our own homes. For others of us it has brought unexpected feelings of isolation, loss, and fear that we are struggling to find ways to deal with. Regardless of where you are on this spectrum remember that there is no ‘wrong way’ to feel about this change, and that it won’t last forever. Things may not be exactly like they were before, but just like you the world will learn, adapt, and grow because of this new experience, and we will come out on the other side of it together.

Relationship Blogging and COVID-19

I haven’t written in a while because I have been questioning whether I have anything to say that can help anyone right now. How do you write a dating and relationships blog when the world has changed so much that meeting new people and building new relationships seems impossible? How do you give advice based on experiences you had before the world changed? How do you tell people what is and isn’t a good idea when words like ‘safe’ and ‘important’ have drastically different meanings now than they did 8 weeks ago? How do you support people through this difficult time when none of us have any experience with anything like it? Is finding or maintaining new relationships even important anymore when we are living in a world where people are losing loved ones, incomes, and businesses at an ever increasing rate? Do I have any right to give advice when I can’t fully understand what anyone else is going through, when I’m not even sure if I fully understand what I am going through?

I am one of the lucky ones. At the time I am writing this all of the people I love and care about are healthy, and no one has been hit by Covid-19. I live in a country with a healthcare system that is prepared for this pandemic, so in the event that anyone does get sick they have the best possible chance of survival. I work in a field that is currently considered essential but has a relatively low exposure risk, so my income has not been affected and I am not in danger of losing my home. I live with my son and my primary partner, so I am not experiencing the same level of isolation as many others are. There are many people that I am not seeing and that I miss, and some relationships I was building have been put on hold, but I do not feel alone during this pandemic. I am better off than most people.

I am still afraid, and I am still mourning the loss of some things. I am not particularly afraid of getting sick, I believe it will happen eventually and that after my weeks of illness, however severe they might get, I will be fine. I am afraid of how those around me will be affected when I get sick, and of spreading this illness to people who won’t survive it. I am worried that some of the people I care about are not dealing well with the emotional and financial strain this is putting them under, and that there will be long term consequences because of it.  I am concerned about the economic impact this pandemic is going to have on this country that I love living in, and about how long people will continue to be willing to operate under what many of them see as a loss of ‘freedoms’. And I am mourning experiences, events, and celebrations that I have missed over the last several weeks, and all of the ones that would have come in the next several months that will now have to be canceled.

To some people my fears, worries, concerns, and losses might seem trivial under the weight of their own. I am not going to argue with them, we all deal with things in our own way, and for some that means feeling that their concerns are more important than the concerns of others. Whether that is true or not, they are entitled to how they feel, just as we all are. What I will tell people is to acknowledge your fears, worries, concerns, and losses. Say them out loud, write them down, talk to a partner or friend, whatever works for you. Acknowledge them and let yourself feel the feelings, whatever they are. It won’t make them go away, but it will make them seem more manageable, and sharing yours may encourage others to share their own. Many of us are very good at holding things inside, but there is a kind of healing that can come from sharing your fears with others, even if all they can do about them is listen.

So where does dating fall in all of this? For me, developing new relationships has always been about hope, and I think that hope is a very valuable commodity right now. Yes, meeting people and dating, and deciding when and how to grow a relationship, will need to change a little, but it is still possible, and it is still something to strive for and work towards. So I will continue to blog about it, and I hope you will continue to read. 

Embrace the Change

“Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” – George Bernard Shaw

When I acknowledged and finally started exploring my poly side I was single, and I embarked on the journey of finding out what poly meant to me with the intent of staying that way. I would have partners of course, partners that I loved, but my primary focus would be me. For the first time in my life I put as much value on getting to know myself as I had always put on getting to know others.This was my time, time to learn about who I was as a person, what I wanted out of life, and what I needed to be truly happy. I decided that however long it took I needed to learn to make my life about me, instead of continuing to let it only be about the people that were in it. 

It did not take as long as I expected. It turns out that who I am, what I want, and what I need really aren’t that complicated, and that I was a lot closer to being happy with myself than I thought. All I needed was to turn the full power of my focus onto myself for just a little bit to find out that I really do like who I am, and that it really doesn’t take a lot to make me happy. Good friends, new experiences, open conversation, stimulating work, creative outlets, opportunities to explore, a social life, a healthy and happy family, and love. Lot’s and lots of love. That’s it, personal journey complete. But what did that mean for my poly journey?

Almost a year ago I met a man with whom I shared an instant connection. Over the course of several months we developed a deep friendship, the kind that lets you talk about anything, from current affairs to pop culture to the most traumatic moments of your life. Although there was interest on both sides the friendship didn’t turn physical for quite a while. When it did he was one of three partners I had at the time, and it was with the intent that I would be splitting my time and my attention equally between them. 

I could not have anticipated the depth of feeling that would develop between us. I already loved him as a friend long before our dynamic changed, but I had no way of knowing how much that love would grow once we removed all the barriers and opened ourselves fully to one another. The amount of love and support and warmth I feel in this relationship is more than I have ever felt before, and rather than being overwhelming or smothering or all encompassing it is uplifting and inspiring. I feel even more like myself and more free to continue to change and grow and explore now than I did before ‘me’ became ‘we’. I wasn’t looking for a primary partner, but I couldn’t be happier that I have found one. 

Over the last few months my other relationships have come to an end. Not because they were influenced in any way by my new outlook, but because they each came to their own natural conclusion. They have either run their course or changed their course, and I have never been a believer that all romantic relationships are meant to last forever. I took a break from meeting new people to give time to my new relationship, but I still identify as poly. I still want deep connections with multiple people, and I fully expect that I will add new partners in the future. This time my approach will be different, and what I want will be different, but the desire to connect and love as much as possible will still be there. The focus will no longer just be on what I need, but on what works for us. And that most definitely works for me. 

Finding a New You

One of the things I enjoy the most about online dating is the opportunity it gives you to meet different people than you would in your everyday life, to try new things you may not have otherwise, and to pick up new hobbies or interest that will far outlast the people who introduced you to them. I thrive on new experiences. Sure, I could go out and find them myself without the ‘benefit’ of sitting through countless dull coffee dates waiting for the next person who actually wants to do something different, but I am honest enough with myself to admit that that would not happen. I’m either too lazy, too busy, or too content with my current life to actually make the effort to seek out new experiences on my own. Besides, everything is more fun when you do it with someone, even someone who is a complete stranger.

I used to love taking pictures. Even before every smartphone was a camera I would carry around a small point and shoot in my purse, just in case there was a chance to capture a moment. I purchased my first DSLR over a decade ago, and used it religiously. No sunset, landscape, or random animal was safe. For a while. Then life got busy and I put the camera down. I forgot that it was a thing I loved to do, or it got lost in the things I had to do, I’m not sure. Then about 10 months ago I met a photographer through Plenty of Fish, and he reminded me how much I absolutely love to take pictures. Not just the regular day to day family or event pics, but those pictures you take just for the beauty of the shot, or to capture an emotion. We would spend hours in his truck just driving around, stopping randomly on roadsides because one of us saw something in a landscape, cloud formation, or shadow. When it was ugly outside we would find things to take pictures of indoors, or we would discuss or plan shots we wanted to take, or ideas we wanted to try. The relationship didn’t work out, but I will be forever grateful to him for returning my love of photography to me. 

Writing is something I have always been interested in, something I’ve always wanted to try, but beyond journaling I could never find a reason to do it. I didn’t have a grand story to tell, I wasn’t an expert in any field, and I’ve never really felt like anyone was going to care what I had to say. I had nothing motivating me to get started. Then I started online dating, started talking to other people about my dating experiences, and I realized a few things. First, people get really, really tired of hearing your dating stories. Really tired. Second, if I was going to run myself through the dating gauntlet I needed an outlet for all the things I would see and feel. And third, maybe, just maybe, there were other people out there who needed a sympathetic voice. And there it was. I had found my reason to write. This blog has grown and will continue to grow beyond what I originally imagined, but it and my reason to write only exist because of online dating. 

Both of those examples are interests I already had that dating brought back to me, or that dating gave me the opportunity to grow. I have also found new interests, things I had never considered before, or things that I had only heard about but never seen. One of those is Shibari, the Art of Japanese Rope Bondage. When you google it you will find thousands of examples and dozens of definitions, ranging from very sexual to very artistic, but what it comes down to is using rope to create geometric designs that bind and accentuate the body. It is a method of applying art to the human body, of conveying emotion through an image, and of learning to love all parts of ourselves, even those we consider imperfect. I was introduced to it by someone I met online, and it has brought me a new passion, a new community, and a new way to learn to love myself. 

Dating can be frustrating, heartbreaking, and exhausting, but it can also be something that helps you rediscover parts of yourself, or find new things inside of you that you didn’t know were there. Try to remember that even when you are having a bad streak of relationship luck there is always something new around the corner, and that you may find things through dating that will make you happier than any one person ever could. 

You Are Enough

Do you have that friend who just seems to blossom whenever they are in a relationship? Maybe they were quiet, or shy, or socially awkward in some way, but then they met someone and that all just seemed to melt away? They became this confident, outgoing, charming person that you could always see in them, but they never seemed able to see it in themselves. Is it possible that maybe you are that person, and just haven’t realized it yet?

That description used to fit me to a T. When I was single I was too shy to go out on my own, too introverted to speak to a complete stranger, and too uncertain to see the things I had to offer. When I didn’t have someone to believe in me I had a very hard time believing in myself. The longer I was single the worse it would get, until eventually it became difficult to even remember a time before I was the girl who was home alone every night. Whenever I found someone who saw something in me it filled me with a feeling of worth, like maybe because they saw something in me I really had something to offer, and I would actually start putting those parts of myself out there for other people to see.

Being in a healthy relationship can be a wonderful thing when you have self-esteem issues. You have someone to go out and do new things with, someone to cuddle up with when you are tired and want to stay in, and someone to help you out when you need support. Someone who likes you for who you are, someone who wants what you have to give, and perhaps most importantly, someone who chose you. Not because there weren’t any other options, or because they couldn’t think of a better thing to do today, but because of who you are, and what they see in you. 

There are a few things I have learned that I had a habit of doing when I was in a relationship that I’ve realized are not healthy, and they stemmed from my own self-esteem issues. It had nothing to do with my partners, and the relationships themselves were healthy, but the way I allowed myself to change because of them was not. Yes, we all change when we bring a new major player into our inner circles, and a certain amount of adapting and adjusting is normal, but what I’m talking about goes beyond that, and often resulted in the relationship coming to an end. The changes I’m talking about are the ones we make to become more of what we think our partners want, not the ones that would be considered normal personal growth.

In my previous relationships I have felt like I am ‘less than’ or ‘not enough for’ my partners. I loved that they had chosen me, and I didn’t want to change their minds, but I also didn’t understand what they saw in me, or how they could want me. I didn’t feel worthy, and I worried that eventually they would realize that I wasn’t. In order to stop this from happening I would do everything in my power to become indispensable to them. My life became about supporting them, being there for them, and giving them everything and anything they needed. I would lose myself in trying to make or keep them happy, and my needs and interests would take a backseat to whatever they wanted or needed. None of my partners had ever asked me to do that, and most hadn’t even really noticed it happening, but in many cases it became the thing that ended the relationship. Everything I was and did became about them, and the person they fell for and wanted wasn’t there anymore. In trying to keep them happy I buried the person that peaked their interest in the first place.

Another bad habit I developed was letting my partners know I felt that they were better than me. It was the kind of thing that sounded sweet when I said it, usually with a ‘you are so great, I’m glad you decided I was enough for you’, or the even more blunt ‘thank you for settling for me’. The idea of the message came from a good place; I was trying to let them know how grateful I was that they wanted me. Unfortunately having that outlook and sharing it created a lot of problems. In some cases it put a lot of pressure on my partners and left them feeling like they had to carry the weight of my self-esteem. In others it created an unhealthy feedback loop where they needed to constantly reassure me that I was enough. And a few times it opened the door for them to really believe that they were better than me, and then they would start to treat me accordingly.

It took me a long time to learn to love myself, flaws and all, and it’s only been in the last couple of years that I’ve been able to see how much my self-esteem issues have affected the people who have chosen to love me. Watching the person you fell for bury all the things that made them special, or having to constantly reassure them that they are still what you want, is a lot for anyone to deal with. It’s a huge strain that not many relationships can survive.

There is nothing wrong with feeling better about yourself when you are with someone, or having a partner who helps you see what a wonderful person you are. Just make sure that what you learn from them is something that you will continue to believe about yourself even if for some reason the relationship ends. Remember that your amazing, loving, perfect partners are choosing you because of who you were before you were a couple, and because of the things in you that were there before their influence on you became a factor. Remember that you are worth their love; otherwise they wouldn’t have given it to you. And make sure you aren’t asking them to be the one who makes you feel worthy; find your own worth, with their help if you need it, believe it, and hold onto it no matter who comes in or out of your life. 

Letting Go

I am the first to admit, I have a hard time letting go. To be clear, I don’t mean I have a hard time ending something that isn’t working; I have no problem analyzing a situation and deciding it isn’t going to work, and I don’t have an issue communicating that. What I’m talking about is emotionally letting go once something is over. Whether it’s a romantic partner that didn’t work out or a friendship that became distant, I have a lot of difficulty allowing people to move out of my life on an emotional level. I continue to worry about them, wonder what they are up to, think of things I would like to say to them, and generally just keep them in my mind longer than I feel is healthy. And when I’m the one to make that decision, to make the call that something is over, it’s even harder, because then there is the guilt that comes from hurting them along with the rest. Losing someone, even if its someone I haven’t really known that long, is an almost physical pain for me. I feel the space they used to fill like an empty seat beside me for some time afterwards.

My last long term romantic relationship could have ended long before it did. We were both holding on for the wrong reasons, and things went on longer than they should have. As a result the ending hurt more than it needed to, and I held onto the pain from that for a very long time. I couldn’t let go of thinking about how he was doing, what could have been, and all the little things that had happened that had hurt me. It was my way of continuing to hold onto the relationship. If I was still being hurt by it, and still thinking about him all the time, then it wasn’t really over. At least not in my mind. 

I don’t only have this problem with romantic relationships. I’ve had friendships I have lost that have been just as important to me. I love my friends as much as I love my partners. They are the family that I choose. When friendships end it is harder on me in a lot of ways, because I can never understand why they need to end. Friendships don’t have the expectations on them that romantic relationships can have; friendships don’t need to meet perceived goals or timelines, they don’t require you to merge lives or to commit fully to each other in order to continue. Most of the pressures that end romantic relationships aren’t there in a friendship, and yet somehow they end anyway, either abruptly or by fading away. It is a type of rejection that I have a lot of trouble letting go of, because I have a hard time seeing as anything but a personal one. I continuously wonder what I did to push them away, or what I was lacking in keeping them interested. 

So how do I deal with it? I’ve learned over the years that it is important to mourn the end of a relationship without obsessing over it, whatever type of relationship it was. Let the feelings of sadness, loss, and even guilt run their course; don’t tell yourself you shouldn’t feel that way. You are allowed to feel the way you do, wonder what they are doing, and replay any moments that you want to. Accept the feelings, acknowledge them, really feel them, and then let them go. Take as much time as you need. The important thing is that you don’t act on them, and that you don’t let them consume you. Don’t become angry or bitter, don’t obsessively stalk anyone in person or online, don’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in their lives, and don’t wallow in your memories. Don’t try to keep someone in your life that isn’t there anymore. Take the time to clean out that empty seat, so that someone else can sit there.