#thisis30Plus: To date, or not to date…wait, what do you mean by “date”?
I haven’t been in a relationship since 2013…now before you say anything, I know, I know, in that period Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was able to release twelve movies! I mean, I love ethnically ambiguous muscular dudes as much as the next guy (don’t read too much into that)…but damn, bruh. You and your eyebrow are allowed to take a sabbatical. But I digress. Since the last Year of the Snake, I haven’t committed to anything other than tattoos and eating poorly. Now, you may be wondering what was the reasoning behind my vagabond lifestyle. And I wish I could tell you that I was just keen on living my best ho life or that I was on some sort of noble quest to impregnate a woman with a progeny that would rival Blue Ivy in greatness but apart from maybe taking one too many social cues from Mad Men (which is wrong on so many levels), somewhere along the way I decided within myself that I wasn’t enough. Not for this world let alone to be in a loving, committed and intimate relationship. What could any woman possibly see in me? I would always find ways to poke holes in the theories offered up by friends and strangers alike when it came to my alleged attractiveness. I basically have a mental block in place that makes it very difficult for me to process such things which is a major hurdle for someone who places great deal of value on logic, it’s as if I’m constantly trying to suck a Snickers through a straw.
This led to many instances of me being in a position to get to know curious and willing parties of the opposite sex who were open to exploring the often harrowing twists and turns of modern dating with lil’ ol’ me but these “situationships” would typically end in disconnected shambles. I wasn’t showing up fully and within the internal deficit I was experiencing and I would only allow myself to connect with women in superficial ways. In theory I exhibited all of the desirable qualities that they were seeking in a prospective partner but I would never let things progress past a certain point, choosing instead to focus my energies on maintaining a casual status quo and ensuring that the person I was involved with was fulfilled in just about every imaginable way other than emotionally.
I was trapped in a counterproductive cycle and whether it was due to a combination of age, laziness and self-assured sagacity, I didn’t put much effort towards breaking free from it through dating or any other active pursuits of the purported plethora of options filing about NYC alongside the assortment of wildlife usually seen consuming people-food in viral videos whom also called the Big Apple home. And since I wasn’t particularly driven by sex, I spent a lot of nights solo like the baby Knowles sister but I came up with a number of ways to justify this existence to myself.
There was the always classic, “I’m just not ‘ready’ right now.” Men and maybe black men in particular often feel an innate sense of pressure whether it be imposed by meme, society or self to not be in a committed relationship until we have our proverbial shit together. As a result many of us avoid commitment like we do paying for our own Netflix subscription and relegate ourselves to so-called casual dating or strictly sexual encounters, if anything at all. For me, it was a combination of things. I convinced myself that I wasn’t “ready” and because I was a twenty-something going on thirty-whatever, I finally had non-hashtagged goals that I wanted to achieve and as a result my greater concern regarded carving out a nice professional path for myself, so being in a relationship didn’t rate very high on the Victor Scale (trademark pending). So anytime questions regarding my dating/relationship status would arise, a lack of “readiness” was my go-to conceit to hide behind.
Something else I had committed to (ironically) was not giving myself permission to yield to really being with someone. Never allowing myself to get too comfortable with a woman or taking the time to build on what may have initially drawn me to her, sometimes even becoming more or less passive. The underlying reason for this was fear and inside of that fear, insecurity. I was afraid to accept the challenges of being vulnerable with one person. The idea of being exposed or rather exposing my weaknesses (real or perceived), faults and flaws to someone who could flee at the first sign of something they disliked was too much for me to bear. I don’t deny that this was a selfish albeit predetermined way of thinking because sacrifices in any relationships are not meant to be singular as relationships are largely built upon reciprocity. Also, the idea of “settling” (which I mean in the least offensive way possible) with one person scared the bejesus out of me, having to consider all of the hypothetical and looming questions concerning my future and being tethered to one person whom I would potentially procreate with while potentially establishing other deep ties. “Who even does that?” was the question that echoed within my conscience. I mean, it’s not like I had grown up with shining examples of monogamous relationships and I just plain didn’t trust myself with honoring such a lofty commitment. And not even in terms of being faithful but in being able to endure the hills as well as the valleys that would most assuredly present themselves along the way. Is it possible to have everything that your heart desires with just one person? Was not having enough (or the “right” things) why people got divorced or chose to engage in infidelity? The questions were too great and too many for me and rather than subject myself or someone else to these inconsistencies and imperfections, I thought it best that I remain largely, unattached.
Of course as I got older, the frequency of inquiries regarding when I was going to tie the knot or pop out some babies (#StopSpeculatingonOurSperm) began to rise. But by time I turned 30 and I had already established that my greatest responsibility as a single adult male was upfront communication about my disposition with any prospective female partners. This way I concluded that anyone who was interested in me could make an informed decision regarding whether or not I was worth their time, relative to whatever it was they were seeking or if they’d just prefer to politely pass altogether on us reaching the dreaded plateau of “it’s complicated” and/or my being labeled with the ever-popular and seemingly ubiquitous term, “fuckboy.”
Where does that leave me now? Well, it’s 2017 and The Rock is about to release his thirteenth movie since 2013 and yet, I’m still single and regularly contemplating whether or not I’ll ever qualify (in my own eyes that is) as “relationship material” or…*GASP* the “marrying type” or if the only thing I’ll remain committed to is a George Clooneyesque (trademark pending) run of perpetual bachelordom well into my launching a #thisis40Plus blog.
At this point, I can unabashedly and unequivocally say (mind you with a straight face), (sometimes) it’s actually NOT you (y’all)…it’s me (or him).
#thisis30Plus
