You Are Not A Choice

Your self-respect is worth more than your feelings.

If there’s one thing I can give myself credit for is that when I’m done, I’m done. Last night I decided: I’m done being a whiny, weepy crybaby.

2020 saw the end of my meaningful relationship with Jon but we’re unable to move on emotionally. He has a new girlfriend but after a Come to Jesus conversation last week and seeing each other for the first time in months, I confessed that I’m unable to move on with someone new while I’m still in love. And that I’ll need to try my best with No Contact to make that happen.

Cue nonstop tears. The pain of No Contact will make you sympathize with meth addicts in recovery. But after a few days on my umpteenth time of white-knuckling through not messaging him, I finally told myself to man the fuck up and stop wallowing. You need to get a grip when your mascara looks like Tammy Faye Bakker’s face.

I feel a million times better.

It’s amazing how many Medium readers have emailed me with words of encouragement. For anyone who has kept up with my drama, I want to clarify one thing that frequently comes up in messages to me:

I’m not sitting around waiting for Jon to “pick” me over his girlfriend. That’s the furthest thing that I want.

Repeat after me: I am not an option. I’m not something on a menu that if you don’t want one thing, you’ll choose another.

If there is a choice between me and someone else, I will always bow out. The acceptable choice is between being with me or staying single. That’s it. I’m not going to be in a relationship being in the shadow of someone else, “what could have been”, or resentment for what they’re missing out on.

He (whoever “he” is, Jon or otherwise) has to have any previous relationship closed and done before he starts something new with me. I’m not a rebound. I’m not a carryover of unrequited business from previous relationships.

You wouldn’t leave a job and still do of work for your previous company. When your notice is given, there is a limited time to wrap up your projects before your final day. When going somewhere new, it’s a fresh start. You have the experience and knowledge from before but all ties to the previous company severed when you grabbed your last paycheck and walked out the door.

Which was what I had figured Jon would do, as I intended on doing: close emotional drama before embarking on any new serious relationships because it’s just juggling more emotional baggage, not less.

I never want him to pick between me and Girl X. It’s a matter of when he’s experienced life no longer as an “us” (with whoever the Girlfriend Du Jour is) and has finally experienced his life single, as an “I”. Who is he as an individual? For me, I need him to figure out his identity when it’s not attached to the realm of another person because he hasn’t had that since…uh, highschool? I’m not asking for him to be single for years. But a solid 30 days without the codependency of another human isn’t unreasonable.

Will Jon do that? I don’t know. That’s far down in the future, certainly not something he’s emotionally ready to do now. It’s a choice only he can make (ironically). It’s not on me to tell him what to do for him. I can only say what I need for him to do if I want him to be with me. What I expect of him is what I expect of anyone that I’m with: be in the right headspace because if you aren’t, I’m the one who suffers the ramifications, not him.

You, dear Reader, have every right to ask the same. You are not too demanding to ask that if you’re all-in with someone, that they’re emotionally 100% all-in as well. Maybe I’m a naïve romantic, but there’s plenty of time for a new relationship to turn complicated down the road. At the beginning of new love, both people should be focused entirely on each other. (This applies to monogamous and committed relationships, not casual ones.)

My heartbreak isn’t tied to me waiting around for Jon to be done with another woman. That would be like giving him a really long hall pass. Fuck that noise. After he’s experienced life officially divorced, truly single, discovering his identity outside of always being the second half of a couple, then it would be up for consideration if that’s what either of us would want. I want to elevate his life to extra happiness and excitement, not add a layer of confusion.

In turn, Jon said he wanted for me to get all boning out of my system. I think I conveyed that isn’t what I need. I want formal dates. I want actual romance, the shit that I haven’t had in 20 years. I’ve fucked plenty. Plenty. And surprising to him, I’ve barely had any sex (less than one hand of times outside of him) since we split up.

I know my needs. They aren’t sexual. My relationship with my husband was roommate-level for almost 20 years. Yes, sex will be required in my next relationship but I don’t want just sex. I don’t need that. I want to get dressed up in cute outfits and enjoy the company of someone else. I want someone to give me butterflies and make me laugh (like Jon did). So if his requirement is me going out fucking loads of guys (which I considered doing but it felt icky), Jon will be disappointed because that’s not my MO. My self-worth will go down, not increase if I whore myself around town.

What I needed at the end of my marriage was to build my self-esteem back up. I knew that I wouldn’t be any decent partner to anyone once I told my husband I was done. A year ago we were unaware of the Covid Hell we’d go through. Who I was then isn’t who I am now. My self-hatred is gone. While my self-esteem isn’t baller-level, I’m content for the first time in decades with myself. I needed to get out of my marriage and focus on myself (including the heartbreak of ending two meaningful relationships) to deal with each layer of emotional baggage accumulated over the years.

If you’re asking someone else to be free of their relationship baggage and be emotionally available, it’s only fair that you are as well.

My fear isn’t that he will choose someone else over me. If that’s his path, then all the power to him, and I wish him all the happiness in the world (for real). If someone else is Jon’s better half, then I’m happy he found that kind of love despite any heartbreak on my part.

I am not, and will not, be a “choice” with another person. Nor I am not a carryover or extension of the same relationship as a rebound. Being with me is different. I don’t think I’m special, but I know I’m different. You’re not switching computer engineering jobs from Apple to Google when you’re with me. It’s like quitting your job, wrapping up your stuff, and moving to Denmark to begin your career as a Lego toy tester.

I’m not just another job. I’m an adventure.

I’m not afraid that I won’t find anyone to love me. I fear that I’ll never find someone who captivates me and makes me feel like I’m part of a kickass two-person team like he did. In my eyes, Jon was and is still my adventure. My fear is that his desire for a one-day “us” isn’t as high as mine and I’ll forever wonder what could have been.

Don’t demand that someone you love choose between you and another person. Don’t ask anyone to treat you like a menu option, dependent on their whim between a burger or chicken wings. Remind yourself that you’re the steak dinner they’ve craved all week and nothing else comes remotely close to satisfying that need.

With that rebel yell, I crawl off my soapbox and continue plowing onward on a path of awesomeness while shoveling discounted post-Valentine’s Day chocolate down my throat.