My mistakes

Dear Future Boyfriend,

In a session a couple of weeks ago, I told my therapist that I knew that I was good enough. ‘I know I’m a catch’ I exclaimed. She paused before asking me flat out, ‘Do you really?”

I keep having flashbacks to that exchange. I see her eyebrows rise slightly as her intonation rose. I think of my own voice as I said, ‘I know I’m a catch’. I have devoted hours thinking about those 5 seconds of my life and I have come to this conclusion.

I said it not necessarily because I believe it, but because I have been told time and time again that faking it leads to making it. That if I look in the mirror and repeat, ‘I am beautiful’, I will be beautiful. That if I pretend confidence then I will be confident. That if I say, ‘I am a catch’ enough times, I will just be.

I have been told by friends and readers, and by family and professionals, by the voice in my head that I am too available, too desperate, too obsessive about this one thing. Of course, not all have said it in those exact terms. Sometimes the content of a person’s message is not important. Different people will always use different ways and different words. But sometimes, if you listen closely enough, if you squint your eardrums in the way you would your eyes, you end up hearing that they are all saying the same exact thing.

I see the mistakes I have made. Do not think that I don’t.

I see that I come across as too available. At times, even needy. I choose a target, almost like a missile launcher, and do not let go until I have hit something. I have hit the target and fireworks have ensued. But most of the time, I am so completely off the mark that I hit myself.

And I explode.

Perhaps, I do not pick up on those apparently obvious ‘he’s just not that into you’ signals. Perhaps, I choose to ignore them because of hope. Perhaps, I choose to ignore them because I am stubborn and proud. Because, why the hell should he not be into me?

I see that I come across as desperate; a woman with a one track mind. See at some point in my life, I decided that acting like a martyr, like a woman who had some fundamental flaw and who was not only ignored by men but they passed through her as if she was a ghost, was a good identity. In fact, it was such a good identity that I began to go out of my way to convince those around me that I was this sort of person.

When my own arguments failed to convince them, I began to put myself in situations that would have the desired outcome. I went after men that I knew were unavailable so that when it did not work out I could say, “See, non-believers? See, you people who are all ‘Of course you’ll meet a great guy!  You’re amazing. You will get a boyfriend’ See? I was right.”

But as I said to T recently (You’ll meet her. She’s great.),

‘I really don’t have to be right about this anymore.’

In fact, I don’t have to be right about anything at all. I don’t have to be a martyr. I don’t have to look into a mirror and proclaim my undying love to myself, I don’t have to be beautiful. I don’t have to be enough. I don’t have to be a catch. Or not. I don’t need to fake anything to be something. More importantly, I don’t need you to be.

Several years ago, I introduced my boyfriend at the time to a friend. While we were all sitting around a table doing that small talk that you should know by now I hate, she said the following:

“I told you that you would meet someone ONE DAY.”

IN FRONT OF A MAN I HAD BEEN SEEING FOR ALL OF THREE MONTHS.

Right then, in that very moment, she managed to reduce my entire identity to one thing.

Him.

I’m surprised he dated me for the next 16 months. Actually, I quietly judge him for staying that long. For staying with a girl who gave the impression that he was the only thing that mattered. Or so he thought.

Once you get through the layers of pride and emotion and keeping up with the Papas’, once you get through all of the psychobabble and the feelings and the wants and needs and blah blah blah, once you get through all of those layers, there is a tiny part of me left, unnoticed.

The rational part.

And I know that you will see all of this.

Not because you are the reincarnation of Mr Darcy or any nonsense like that but for a different reason altogether.

Because the mistakes I make, the setbacks I suffer now and again, the lessons I learn, the self-knowledge I gain after every unsuccessful venture ventured, have taught me one thing.

That this is it. This is me. Living life as fully as I am capable of but also falling (and failing) as hard as I can.

You will not love me for my face or my body or my fashion sense. You will not love me for my peanut butter cookies or my awesome taste in music. You will not love me because of the subtle burp-like noise I make when I yawn. Or because I cry way too easily. You will not love me because I love to read and I love to think. Or because I am a hard worker in the body of a lazy couch potato.  Nor will you love me because of my loyalty to my friends. You will not love me because I can recite Jack Nicholson’s entire ‘You can’t handle the truth’ monologue from A Few Good Men. Or because in my network of friends? I am the 6th best person that people would choose to take as a companion on a desert island.

Neither will you love me because I make origami flowers and send them to men I barely know.

No. That is all ephemera.

You will love me because you will be the only person aware that all the mistakes I have made have led me to be the person whose sitting next to you right now cringing as you read this.You will love me because you will be the only person aware that all the mistakes I have made led me to you.

And you will continue to love me because you will be the only one who truly understands this importance. That despite the mistakes I will continue to make–about everything under this blinding sun–I will still be standing and hoping and fighting that next time–the bloody next time–I will get it right. And you will continue to love me–and I you– because you will just know that if anything defines me?

It is that.

So take your time. I am in absolutely no rush. I have plenty of mistakes left to make.

Hope