The Struggle

Some men are incredibly persistent, you can rebuff them a few thousand times and they still come back. We all have our weak moments, and if these men are try long enough they will catch you at one (or eight) of those moments, and then the cycle repeats itself all over again. Let me tell you about Mr. Smith. I met Smith (Smithy, Smithers, I digress) in the summer of 2016 – I was between jobs, having just finished an intense yearlong fellowship and searching for my new role full-time. This was also the summer when I really dived into the dating apps. I was going on a couple dates a week via Bumble, quickly narrowing down my pool to an older man I really liked and another around my age who I had a surprising amount in common with, but was very uncertain about. The one I really liked was madly in love with his company and could not bear to part with his emails for more than maybe an hour at a time. I let things fade out and expire with that one. Smith was very religious...

Today I wanted to take a deeper dive into my personal story about something I’ve always called ‘Ugly Duckling Syndrome’ – I thought this was an original term, I’ve since been informed that I may have heard it first on How I Met Your Mother. Nonetheless: Ugly Duckling Syndrome, when a young woman was less attractive, or did not have a positive experience that allowed her to feel attractive young, so as she got older she continued to believe she was not pretty, even if everyone around her says she is. I’ve had clinical acne since I was twelve years old, around 18 I started my first round of medication that really worked for more than a week or two at a time. I also learned how to do my make-up well enough to cover most blemishes and highlight my better features at this time. But I continued to believe that because I had acne, I was not very pretty.  At 18, in college, I started getting attention from men, and that was really new for me. I had a boyfriend at t...

This past Friday was the SOME Young Professionals’ Winter Ball. SOME is the acronym for “So Others May Eat,” and their mission is simple: SOME (So Others Might Eat) is an interfaith, community-based organization that exists to help the poor and homeless of our nation's capital. We meet the immediate daily needs of the people we serve with food, clothing, and healthcare. We help break the cycle of homelessness by offering services, such as affordable housing, job training, addiction treatment, and counseling, to the poor, the elderly, and individuals with mental illness. Each day, SOME is restoring hope and dignity one person at a time. It is an organization that I believe in, and I can say with certainty that they throw one heck of Charity Ball! A week before the Ball, a male friend who has been inviting me to concerts, dinner parties, and the like for a couple months now (but I’ve never been able to go due to timing) told me to buy my ticket. I had been honestly contempla...

Friday Morning, the day after the disaster that was Thursday night, I walked into work with what I would call an 'emotional hangover'. Thank God I already had a Cayenne Kombucha in the office fridge (my personal way of overcoming this awful feeling of exhaustion and upset – sweat it out with spicy black tea and probiotics). Our office was hosting a massive event for Continuing Education, so I was able to close my office door without seeming rude. However, my coworker who set me up with AM in the first place did come by to ask how the night had went. “If I wanted to argue with a 46-year-old about his behavior until 1 in the morning, I could have stayed with my ex.” That’s not true, though. My ex isn’t nearly that old and usually behaves impeccably. She apologized for introducing us and setting us up, but she's never dated him, she couldn't know. On Saturday Evening, I was watching TV and trying new wines with a friend – at 11:15pm I got a text asking how my wee...

“You’re what, 38?” “You’re very kind, higher” “40?” “Higher.” “45…” I start speak slower now as the nervousness creeps into my voice. “Higher.” “Not 50!" “No, lower than that. 46” “Divorced?” “No, valid questions, though. And I don’t have any kids, either.” “Do you want kids?” “Yes.”  I nod. “I should get home.” “Let me drive you.” I do the mental math – his last drink would have been hours ago. It should be fine. In said car, his heat isn’t working because his car is out of coolant, so that’s not comfortable. Then he has to stop for gas IN my neighborhood, I’m a 15 minutes walk from my apartment, a 4 minute drive, because this man (who you would assume at 46 has his shit together) is about to stall because he was driving me home on empty. Am I impressed? No. Am I interested? Not really, anymore. Am I embarrassed to be in this car right now? Hell yeah, I am. Monday – my co-worker, who introduced this man to me at a bar on Friday n...