Paper Cuts

December 17, 2021

I’ve never actually seen an episode of Sex and the City, but I like to imagine that it’s about four independent, single women who live in New York City, go on dates, tell each other sassy stories over brunch, and cry themselves to sleep 3-4 nights per week. Let me know if I’m off track, and maybe I’ll log onto HBO and watch season 1.

Speaking of sassy, independent, single ladies – I had my first date this week. Well, my first date in about a year and a half. I got drinks after work with this guy named Tony. Tall, former marine, tattoos, good looking  –  just in case you were wondering if I have a type… Anyway, I showered after work, put on my nicest outfit with the dangly earrings that I think are so classy, made my hair as shiny as can be, and sprayed on some of my Country Chic perfume.  I put a red bow on a bottle of Ale8 to offer him as a souvenir from a date with a Kentucky girl, and told myself that he was meeting the absolute best version of me – physically, emotionally, mentally, financially and intellectually the best me. I had a perfectly fine date with this guy and he thought the Ale8 I brought was delightful and sweet.  The next day he texted me to politely tell me he wasn’t interested and something about just getting out of a 4-year relationship, emotional trauma, baggage, blah, blah, blah. I get it. The truth is, I was relieved to not have to do the rejecting, because I wasn’t really feeling him either. But when I got the text riddled with words like “friendship”, “sweet’, “smart” and all the other words of affirmation we throw at people we have no intention of ever seeing again when we don’t want to hurt their feelings, I felt that little sting. That sting that is so small and insignificant, it’s like a paper cut. It is short lived, barely even a blip on the radar, but noticeable nonetheless. 

I told him that friendship was of course fine, thanked him for the drink and offered him the information that it was my first date after a break up too – just trying to be empathetic. Then he started asking me how he was on the date – how he presented himself, whether I liked him – as if he was wanting some coaching for a future date with a lady who is not me. Some future lady who is desirable and worth impressing – unlike myself, the practice date. I realize that’s my own interpretation and creative spin on his intentions, but what can I say? I had a paper cut!  Asking me for advice or feedback felt like he was rubbing a little salt in my small wound, yet I gave him some answers and hyped him up and lied a little bit about how much I liked him and how charming he was.  He just seemed like he needed it. It seems like maybe this is a pattern of mine.  I’ll be sitting in the middle of some hurt or rejection that I feel, big or small, and I’ll be focused on making sure someone else feels ok – even when that someone is the one who made me hurt. 

It’s been a pattern in my relationships – I’ll get upset about something and mention it to my person, then see them get upset and defensive over my declaration.  Next thing I know, I’m apologizing to them, soothing their pain – when the entire conversation started with me being hurt about something. My own pain never gets resolved or even addressed because I forget to think about me, or operate based on fear that the fallout from the conversation will cause me to lose that person. In this case, my pain was so small and fleeting, but I ignored it and made sure this guy I’ve spent less than 2 hours with was feeling ok and confident for his next shot at love.  I really want to be more mindful of this going forward, because I think it really hinders my ability to communicate effectively. But also, I feel like hyping up my new “friend” was a good example of leading with kindness and empathy – two things I value very much. What I’m saying is that this whole dating while simultaneously guarding your heart and mitigating collateral damage to other humans and making value-based decisions on who you associate with and how you treat them – well it’s fucking tough.

In the grand scheme of things, this doesn’t matter. It’s kind of a bleak fact that dating in your 30’s is sort of like death from a thousand paper cuts. Each one is small and easy to recover from, but you just grow to expect the same tedious pain over and over. Every encounter ends with 1) He is not interested in you and tells you so, 2) You are not interested in him and you tell him so, 3) He is not interested in you and he ghosts you or 4)  you go on a second date. Rinse and repeat, and most iterations end in something that is a little bit painful. The only thing that makes it easier is hope that someday you’ll find a person who offers you the effortless kind of love that you know exists. I’ve never experienced that, but I think it’s probably worth a few paper cuts.