I had something with someone, but I have realized that I am, and always have been, just an option to them. That is not saying being an option is necessarily always negative or bad, but I’d like to be a priority and that’s not going to happen. Being reminded of how I am just an option has changed the dynamic of whatever we were/are and that has been difficult for me to wrestle with. It is difficult to go from sending kiss emojis all the time to knowing not only are those no longer part of the equation, but those emojis are going to someone else. A Shauna Malwae-Tweep, if you will. And I just have to keep doing what I do because distance, like a rule against fraternization, is a barrier I cannot compete against.
Dating around here is very hard. So many people are already married. There are not many places for people to hang out – not that I do much hanging out. I often think that I missed the boat. One of my main standards is that they have a college education and, among the singles I’ve seen online, that is somewhat of a rarity (even with a 100 mile search radius). One guy who really liked my profile on OK Cupid not only was an unemployed high school drop out, but stated in his profile that most people who meet him think he is an asshole. A real winner, to be sure.
I’m glad that there are representations on television of strong, successful, feminist, quirky women who find love. Liz Lemon and Leslie Knope — they give me some hope.
I’m a grown woman who has her shit (fairly) put-together. I’m not optional.