I’m going to talk to you about something I don’t really like talking about with anyone who is not my therapist.
Honestly I don’t love talking about it with her, either. But here it goes:
I’ve never had a boyfriend.
I’ve decided to talk to you about this because I am prone to doing things that are comfortable, easy, bereft of the hard work. In my attempt to grow into a more vulnerable, open and honest person I have found that the challenging, scary conversations are what brings me closer to the important people and experiences in my life. That includes things I feel shame about.
And, though I’m working on it, I do have shame about having never been in love before. Partially brought on by society and the romantic comedy genre at large. Partially brought on by my nana.
You see, my nana is impressively tri-lingual (Romanian, then Hebrew, then English. Un peux Francais, aussi). But she also speaks another, much more complex language.
In fact -- it’s so complex, I’m the only other person who speaks it.
Your grandmother might speak a version of this language, but the one my nana speaks is translatable only by me and is, if you can believe it, mostly non-verbal. Here, I’ll show you.
“You’re so beautiful,” translates to: “You’re so beautiful, why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Did you hear so-and-so’s granddaughter got married?” translates to: “Why the fuck aren’t you married and giving me great grandchildren yet?”
“When are you going to find a boyfriend?” -- actually that one translates the same.
For a long time I didn’t think I wanted a relationship, ever (a defense mechanism, to be sure). For another long time I thought I wanted a certain kind of relationship but really, as it turns out, I only wanted to placate my family. I came to this conclusion in therapy when I realized the subconscious list of deal breakers I’d made over things like religion and income were not actually my deal breakers at all -- they did sound, however, suspiciously like my nanas.
So, at 32, I’ve never really had what you could call a relationship. I’ve had a few things, some less traumatizing than others.
In my early twenties when I really hated myself I was sleeping with a boy I, for a fleeting moment, thought might become a boyfriend. He just needed to break up with his girlfriend first. We make bad decisions before we realize who the fuck we are, and this was one of mine. Back then, negative attention from a boy still just meant one thing: that I was getting attention.
Once over dinner this same boy implied that I wasn’t “healthy” (read: thin) enough to actually date full time, grease from a cheeseburger dripping out of the side of his mouth. I didn’t get up and leave. I pushed my salad around and brought him home to have mediocre sex, reminding myself I was lucky to be wanted at all.
I want to give that girl a hug. And a cheeseburger.
Figuring out how you’re supposed to be treated by a partner takes trial and error even when you grow up surrounded by positive male figures and relationships -- both of which I did not. My inability to engage with potential partners in a healthy way followed me into adulthood — I have often been unable to picture what having a partner would even feel or look like (that is luckily — albeit slowly — changing.)
Of course, life is not only about romantic relationships, but it’s part of it, and there’s not really a whole lot of positive representation in media and movies (that I’ve seen, anyway) of women who have not experienced meaningful romantic relationships. Josie Grossie comes to mind -- no disrespect to Drew Barrymore or “Never Been Kissed” but I’m not Josie Grossie -- anymore, or ever. Though you would have been forgiven to think I was had you been a fly on the wall in one of my first sessions with my therapist years ago.
The exchange is still burned into my brain.
“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” I said.
“Why do you think that is?” she replied.
“I think it’s because I’m not attractive enough to have one.” I think back and can’t believe how quickly — and matter of factly — the words came out of my mouth. But it is what I believed.
And then -- silence. Such a loooooooooooooooooooong, only-in-a-therapist’s-office, excruciatingly awkward silence.
Oh my god, this bitch thinks I’m unattractive?
Now, I know it’s not her job to tell me I’m being crazy when I engage in negative self-talk. That’s what friends are for! In any event, external validation from my therapist not forthcoming, I was forced to actually think about it in (her intention all along, that sneak). At its most basic level, many of us are unfortunately and often unconsciously brought up to believe that thinness = goodness and being not super thin meant being not good, not worthy -- certainly not of male affection. But of course, of course, that is bullshit. And of course, there’s a lot more to it than that.
Over the years I’ve learned that being a person who talks a lot — a sentiment found on every single one of my report cards — does not mean you’re good at communicating. I’m actually pretty shitty at the latter, you might be surprised to find out. It’s what has led me to drink too much and talk too much on first dates without ever really saying anything -- performing my little standup set in hopes that if I fill all the silence with jokes and charm I’ll never have to answer anything of consequence or have the meaningful kind of conversation necessary in actually getting to know someone.
But wait -- there’s more! My childhood trauma made it so that in adolescence, when most people detach from their families and forge their own paths, I clung on -- hard. Without any of us realizing it, I centered my life about my family’s life. I stayed close to home emotionally and physically, daydreaming about living in other cities and even countries but never following through.
I love my family and have no regrets about living in this dead city (lol) but being in a state of arrested development means I’m only now starting to “rebel” against them in the ways, say, an 18 year old might have, only now figuring out how to have my own life separate from them. I used to think that because I didn’t want the things nana wanted for me I was in some way fighting against her. Now I realize that it’s not a fight, it simply isn’t — and never was — my path.
But sure -- I’ve always been single because I’m not attractive. SIGH. One year into a pandemic filled with weight fluctuations and so much time with myself, I feel more attractive than ever. And I’m still single. Would ya look at that.
Recently I remembered something my friends used to say when I would complain about being boyfriend-less -- that once I found the right person it was going to be amazing and immediate, and that the people in my life were in for a rude awakening. See, I’ve always been very available to them far more so than I’ve been available to myself. Once it was my turn to be in a relationship, all of that was going to change.
“Why on earth would you wait for a boyfriend to do that?” my therapist asked when I recalled the conversation to her last week.
Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Much like getting a dog or watching “Game of Thrones,” putting myself first was something I imagined I’d have to wait for a boyfriend to do. Well, I finished “Game of Thrones” two years ago and am writing this newsletter with a snoozing dog at my feet. Like those things, prioritizing myself doesn’t start or end with another person. It starts with me. And I hope it does for you, too.
Here are a few other things I’m prioritizing this week:
Abercrombie jeans. I haven’t worn something from Abercrombie in over a decade but every fashion person I follow on TikTok raves about the fit. Thinking I might need to take a leap and buy myself this pair. Will keep you posted.
Kiehl’s milk-peel gentle exfoliating toner. Have been using it morning and night and really see a nice difference in my complexion.
This natural orange Greek wine that is just a little funky and extremely drinkable.
The Vuori sweatshirt I’ve been wearing to walk my dog every day. So comfortable AND on sale.
And this goddamn WEATHER honey. Love. It. So. Much.
OK, so that was kind of a doozy. I hope someone feels seen by it. Please tell me if you do! If nothing else, at least now you all know how to speak nana.
Until next time -- I love you! Thanks for being in this newsletter relationship with me!
Love,
Jamie AF
Jamie, this article hit me like a ton of bricks. As a woman who is married but hesitating when is comes to reproducing...the weight of family expectations never does end. (especially coming from a Jewish family) Also having grown up in the fucked up culture we exist in, my body image and relationship with myself has ALWAYS been harsh and generally awful. I am working on self love all day every day. You are not alone. I also will share with you that I’m pretty sure I used to think being in a relationship would bring me self-love and complete body acceptance...hah! It seems so silly now. I am very grateful for life but boy is the struggle real. And screw American pop culture. Beauty is everywhere and it is much more than one stupid narrow minded view we are constantly flooded with and told is the only way to be a “hot lady.” And your writing is awesome and wonderful and I am already looking forward to the next one:) Happy Thursday!
WOWSA! I’m going to have to take some of that very same advice from you AND your therapist!! As usual, I am always and forever your #1 fan for life!! xoxo