Is it a surprise then that I have a knack for dating guys who clearly aren’t interested in me? Guys I annoy. Who think I’m stupid and boring. Who think I’m mean and ugly. Who think they can do better than me but for some reason they aren’t. Guys I think would love me if I could somehow prove my worth to them, but who, other than that, I’m not particularly interested in, either. This way we’re both unhappy. It’s called being an adult! Actually, it’s called being stupid. Wasting my own time. I once had a three-year relationship with a guy who was mean to me all the time. He’d sit next to me, and I could feel his contempt wafting off him. Even his sighs sounded like he hated me.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t wait for him to get the hell out of my apartment. He was young, stupid, and thought he was more attractive than he actually was. He lied about everything, and he was really a bad person. But there we were, both in this relationship, pretending to like each other. During this time, I was really close with another guy. We were mostly just friends. I’d ask him for advice all the time, basically doing that very girlie thing of asking a straight guy friend what to do about my relationship even though I knew the answers already. My friend knew that my boyfriend was an asshole, so he asked very seriously, “Do you think you deserve your life?”
I didn’t understand, so he clarified his question.
“Okay, well, you know how you have a dream job starring in movies and TV shows, and people think you’re funny, and when we go to restaurants, the chefs always send over extra food because you’re kind of a celebrity, and you get to travel the world first-class for free? Do you think that you deserve that?”
I considered the question very seriously, and after a moment, I answered, “No. Not really.”
He smiled and took my hand in his, and said, “You keep your horrible boyfriend around because you feel like shit, and he’s the only one around who agrees with you. He validates the part of you that thinks you deserve bad things instead of good things. When you start believing that you deserve good things, you’ll dump him because he won’t fit anymore. But for now, he treats you like shit because that’s what you want.”
It was like a punch in the face. A hard punch with a fist made of the truth. I did feel like shit a lot of the time. I felt unworthy of all the good things in my life, so keeping around a boyfriend who agreed with that felt . . . comforting. Really, he was a placeholder for a real boyfriend. If in his place there was a guy I was really attracted to and liked and respected, then I’d be forced to grow up and deal with all of the very real feelings and life choices that went along with loving someone in a romantic way. At the time, though, I wasn’t ready to be a grown-up in that way.
Dating seems to conclude with something being wrong with me. I’m not sure the mental gymnastics are worth it. I mean, I guess sometimes you get a free dinner out of it, but I can buy my own dinners . . . I just don’t want to. In fact, I’m not done with dating just because I’m tired of it. It’s not even really my decision to stop. I’m being forced into retirement. I’m moving from New York City to LA, and dating in LA for a girl like me isn’t just hard. It’s impossible. This forced retirement is fine by me. I’m basically Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon. I’m too old for this shit.
Here’s the thing about LA. I don’t really want to move there. I figured I’d live my entire life in New York City and then die there. (Morbid, I know, but, spoiler alert, I’m going to die one day. You, too. You first, though.) But in my thirties, it’s time for me to live comfortably with more space. Listen! I saw Hamilton, too, okay?! I love the shit out of New York City! But I’m tired of hearing my upstairs neighbors have sex. It feels like a super-inconvenient threesome. LA will be fine. I could use the room. In New York City everyone is stacked on top of one another like sardines. More room will be nice and will make saying good-bye to dating worth it. I think. LA is filled with trees, sunlight, houses with pools in the backyards, and gorgeous people working on their respective careers by looking to date other gorgeous people who can boost their careers. LA can be pretty superficial. I know I’m generalizing, but it seems that when the LA dudes I meet are showing interest in a girl like me it’s usually for one reason.
When I say “a girl like me,” I bet you think I’m just talking about being fat. How dare you fat-shame me!? You think I’m talking about being black? Racist! What makes you think I’m not talking about being smart? What? You don’t think a fat black girl can be smart or something? Fat-shaming racists like you make me sick! Just kidding. I’m sure you’re not a racist. I mean, you might be, but I can’t know that for sure. Did you vote for Trump? Let’s move on. When I say “a girl like me” I mean all of it, I guess. I am currently fat or plus-size. (I don’t have a problem with the word fat because I’m dead inside now, but I know a lot of plus-size people do.) I am and forever will be black. (Thank GAWD! No shade.) I’m also smart. Look at me writing this whole book by myself! Wheeeee! I’ve found all three of those facts about me to be both a turn-on and a turnoff at some point or another. With other factors, like feeling the need to make a joke out of nearly everything, being always on time, looking younger than I actually am while seeming older than I actually am, being lazy, working really hard anyway, having my own money, knowing almost every song ever, and liking to sing the nonexistent harmonies of rap songs, the list of idiosyncrasies that make up my personality is vast and polarizing. Good, bad, and ugly, they’re all me, and at some point, I’ve been asked out because of one or the other or dumped because of one or the other. But I guess we all have been. That’s how being a human being on a planet of other human beings works, right?