Ill-fitting Pants

I have been wearing the wrong pants. Figuratively, not literally. It’s no secret that I have not had much luck in the love category. My ex-husband was a narcissistic jerk who tore my heart out of my chest. I never really had a relationship before him, but since then I have encountered a guy who was sweet and we got along, but he never made time for me. I dated someone very intellectual but also very timid. We remain friends. I dated someone who could hardly hold a conversation with me. We are also still sort-of friends. More recently I dated someone who I just wasn’t falling for, so I broke it off and he acted like a jerk. There was someone I was really into until I realized we wanted different things in life. And my most recent whirlwind with Toxic Friend’s brother who was just looking for a sugar momma. Not to mention all the dates from online dating platforms – so many dates! Before my ex, I thought I was just not meeting someone who was interested in me. My mom told me I was intimidating. I have no idea how or why, but it seemed through my teenage years and young adulthood, she was right. I thought maybe I was too much of something (headstrong, independent, loud, fat) and not enough of something else (thin, pretty, coy, sexy, flirtatious, good at making a man feel good about himself). Now, I realize I was just trying on different pants and not finding the right fit. I deserve a nice pair of pants, that fit me loose in the waist, that flatter me and make me feel like a million bucks. It is hard, being pant-less, but I’m tired of pulling on crappy, ill-fitting pants hoping I can make them work. I am a good person, I make a good partner and I deserve someone who is willing to see that value. For too long I allowed infertility to make me feel less-worthy of a loving relationship. I would always timidly answer the questions about future children and hold my breath for the response. If any man is reading this, you don’t have magic sperm that will impregnate a woman who doesn’t ovulate! It seems to be a common response when I reveal I am infertile.

 

Most of the time I’m totally fine being alone. It is harder after being with someone, even briefly, to go back to being alone. I want to remain optimistic, but I don’t really go places to meet new people, so I try to keep my expectations low. I don’t even know where I would go, if I suddenly had the free time to be out on my own. I used to dream about meeting someone at the grocery store because that seemed a likely place given I go there all the time. A lot of people say you find someone when you aren’t looking or, if you believe in the law of attraction, you can will them into being. I don’t know about all of that, honestly. But, I do know you cannot offer someone something you do not have. I cannot offer a relationship with someone if I don’t have a solid relationship with myself first. For pretty much all of my life I have hated my body. It wasn’t what I wanted it to be and rather than strive to make improvements, I chose to wallow in self-loathing. I have found a zillion different techniques to help me improve my physical body and I almost always quit before I even start. I need to start with my mind. I can no longer hate my body because it is mine and hating it allows others to degrade me, to lessen my worth. And I deserve more than that. I deserve better than that. I deserve pants that fit me well.