My Life on the Clearance Rack

November 14, 2021

One of my favorite questions to ask when I’m on dates with 30-something year old men is “so, what brings you to the clearance rack?” The question usually raises eyebrows, until I explain my silly notion that people dating in their 30’s or 40’s are all on the clearance rack. I like to imagine myself as a shirt or a pair of pants, surrounded by other articles of clothing that are all on this clearance rack in a store for various reasons. Some of us have been returned out of season. Some of us are uncommon sizes. Some of us are slightly damaged (or more than slightly). Some of us are ugly. Some of us had bad luck with our placement in the store and no one noticed us. But as all the other hip, cool articles of clothing get purchased and go home with their happy new owners, we sit on the clearance rack and hope that someone with a tight budget picks us up.

I know, I know. The analogy is pretty bleak, maybe even dark. And it isn’t perfect. Sometimes I think the clearance rack concept is wrong altogether, and I should instead be talking about a thrift store. But the main point is that for whatever reason, we all missed that boat that so many of our friends sailed away on in their 20’s – the ones who found the single person on earth who fills their heart with joy well before they were legally allowed to rent a car, and planned their white weddings, and lived happily ever after. Or maybe some of us didn’t miss that boat at all, and have since been “returned” with that super forgiving return policy that life offers, and simply skipped the “happily ever after” part. Some of us have had bad luck with relationships that start off well and end in tears. Some of us are bad at dating, or insecure about our looks and what we bring to a relationship. Some of us have some things to figure out about ourselves before we can commit to someone else. And some of us are jerks, who are on the clearance racks because we are just not nice people. The reasons vary, and when you find yourself shopping on the clearance rack, it’s pretty important to be mindful of that.

So here I am. I’ve been “returned” again. Someone picked me out at the store, tried me on, and took me home – and then later decided that I wasn’t a good fit and took me back to the store for a refund. I make light of things, but this is one of the hardest seasons of life I have ever experienced because I didn’t want to be returned. I was happy. I was in love – I am in love. I felt proud to be with this person, and wanted it to go on forever. This is the first break-up I’ve experienced where I’m having a hard time seeing the positive possibilities for the future. All I can see is a future that is being taken away from me. So as I sit here in this pile of fresh returns, dealing with this intense pain that comes to me in really big waves that are very close together, I have to take the time to figure out the reasons I am here. I have to figure out why I’m about to be placed back on that clearance rack with a new, red, mark-down sticker.

I guess I could dwell on the things I wish I could change. I wish I would have been low “maintenance” – less needy, less excited to spend all of my time with my person. I wish I had spent more time with friends in the last year. I wish I had not said the mean things I said at the end when I was so selfish in my pain. I wish I had not begged and begged and begged for a different outcome. I wish I had some happiness lever I could have pulled that would have made him as happy with me as I was with him. I wish I had posted on social media a little less, so that I wouldn’t be plagued almost daily with reminders of happy times that are now tainted in the Facebook memories that Zuckerberg thinks are so neat-o and helpful.

That list of what-if’s and I-wish-I-had’s could go on and on. But I guess there are some things I am glad I did. I’m glad I was vulnerable and opened myself up to love (and this eventual pain and torment) after my last painful experience with love. I am glad I was generous and kind in my relationship, and gave as much as I could. I look back at the type of partner I was this time, and I’m proud of it. I think I was the type of partner that I would like to have. I put in effort when I was exhausted from work and everything else. I planned surprises and showered my partner and his family with the kind of sweet love that I’ve been looking for. I am proud of that. I tried to make him feel appreciated and special because he was appreciated and special. As embarrassed as I am for begging at the end, I am still happy I demonstrated to him how much the relationship means to me and that I advocated for what I wanted. As messy and fucked-up as I feel right now, I know that growth has occurred over the course of these failed relationships, and that maybe I’m close to being the type of partner that I want to be. I’m proud of the partner he was too, because he was better, sweeter, kinder to me than any other man has been. I’m grateful for that. If he weren’t the most wonderful, smart, funny, engaging and challenging person I’ve ever known, maybe this would be easier.

It’s hard for me to put into words the agony I have been going through. I don’t really need to, because I think you’ve all been there before. I would give anything to make my circumstances different. I feel like I’m going back to the clearance rack kicking and screaming, daunted with the reality that eventually after some healing I’m going to have to sift through all these other damaged, heartbroken people to try to separate the lonely, unlucky ones from the ones who are mean and incapable of love. I’m dreading it. But this is what we do. We get hurt and then rise from the ashes and then go through hurt over and over again in hopes of finding someone who will let us be our authentic selves and love us for it anyway. If you’ve found that, I’m glad for you, and maybe you can send me a text or something to remind me that it really is worth all of this time at the clearance rack.