Dating Myself

Alright, I’ve decided. Enough romantic books and movies; enough trying to fill the void of my hopeless romantic heart by living vicariously through fictional characters. If my current partner cannot offer me the kind of love and romance I desire, I’ll give it to myself. And no, not in that way- gosh, get your mind out of the gutter.

Here’s what I’m proposing: for one month I will prioritize taking myself on the romantic dates and adventures that I long for. I’ll go see classic movies at old theatres, I’ll spend a day at the beach, I’ll walk alone in a museum- you get the picture. From January 14th to February 14th- aptly ending on the most love-filled day of the year- I will date myself.

I know what you’re thinking- didn’t she mention she has someone in her life? Yes, reader, you would be correct. I do have someone in my life. However, unfortunately, he does not share the same romantic inclination that I do- meaning he spends his spare time taking himself to do the things he enjoys and showering himself with love, affection, and gifts. There’s a word for people like that, but I haven’t yet given myself permission to say it. Anytime in the span of our many years together that I’ve subtly expressed an interest in more, he’s made me feel as though the only reason I felt badly was because my expectations were too high. I was childish, delusional, and asking for too much.

If you haven’t guessed, my relationship has seen better days. Everyone says long term partnerships are hard, but you have to fight for them. Well, between you and me, I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of begging for an ounce of affection; begging to be given the bare minimum by someone who demands everything from me. I simply can’t do it anymore. So why don’t I just end things? In truth, I can’t. Not yet at least. The one thing nobody tells you about long term relationships is how utterly messy it is trying to untangle yourselves from one another. The desire and the spark seems to have burnt out entirely, but it hasn’t left nothing in it’s place. There’s still platonic love, mutual friendships, dogs, cats, furniture, bills to pay, a shared roof over our head, and so many other ties that bind us no matter how distant we’ve become. We’re still hanging by so many loose threads, and I’m terrified to cut them.

So, selfish as it may be, I’ve decided to hang on a bit longer. He and I are on the same page about things if that makes you feel better- less guilty by omission. We both know this isn’t going to work. We want different things, we’re very different people. Too different, it would appear. I’m not keeping the person I’ve been with for five years in the dark about how I feel, though I admit I haven’t been as intensely detailed about my feelings as I’m being now. Consider yourself lucky stranger on the internet, you officially know more about my emotional turmoil than the man that sleeps beside me at night.

I’ve gone a bit of a tangent, haven’t I? Where was I? Right- dating myself. What’s the real reason I’ve decided to take up this, what to call it, social experiment? Well, to be honest, I’m not the most confident person. I’ve always lingered more on the painfully insecure side of the self-love spectrum, regardless of how many times I tell my friends and family how important loving yourself is. A classic case of not being able to take your own advice. As someone who’s always been slow to give myself love, I think I became desperate to receive it from someone else. I thought that someone else’s grand gestures would force me to start to feel better about myself, as if that person’s feelings towards me would inevitably begin to seep under my skin and allow me to see myself the way they did. However, at a very young age with little to no experience, I instead found out the reality of what happens when you don’t love and respect yourself. You end up in a relationship with the first person who shows you a teaspoon of love, and then find yourself five years later sleeping beside someone whose somehow managed to make you feel worse about yourself than you did when you were alone, and desperately craving more.

So, to come full circle, that’s why I’m doing this. I’m not a young ingenue anymore, I’m an adult woman who needs to make damn sure I don’t make the same mistake again. The only clear way I can see that being avoided, is if instead of prioritizing the search for someone else’s affection, I learn to give it to myself.

Now, I know taking myself to the movies isn’t likely to cure me of the issues I have within myself, but hey, it’s a start isn’t it? Who knows, maybe the exact thing my weary heart needs is a few lonesome days on a beach and a ticket for one to Roman Holiday.