I am a child of the 80s and one glaring clue is my first name: Amanda. It was the third most popular name the year I was born. There were two other Amandas in a bridal party I was a part of a few years ago. It is a common first name among women my age.
You know what it means? It means “worthy of love.”
<insert gales of laughter here>
Apparently the thing right now is polyamory. I’ll read a guy’s profile and think he looks great until I get to the part where he is married, in an open relationship, ethically polyamorous, etc. I fully realize that I once said I could never see myself engaging in hook-up culture. I have, to borrow a phrase from Obama, evolved on that point.
I am stating right here and right now that there is no fucking way I could do polyamory. To those who can – more power to you. You do you. Two thumbs up. For me, I am far too insecure and jealous to do anything but monogamy. It is hard enough for me to juggle guys without feeling the slightest bit of guilt.
You may be thinking, “But Mandy! You could have double the love!” Bitch, please.
I have a hard enough time getting the love of one guy, let alone more than one. Plus it wouldn’t be double the love. It would be like a quarter from this guy and a half from that guy and a third from this other guy. Just pieces.
In the meantime, I’m still trying to shake off rejection nearly a week later. I’m reminding myself of:
- all the things that make me awesome and a catch
- all the things that really showed that there was a lack of chemistry between P and me (yeah, they were there, but you overlook them when you’re twitterpated)
- how there are other fish in the sea and any fish I have on the line are not the only opportunities I have left
- how there are plenty of unhappy people who are in relationships (not exactly the most helpful)
- how there are fabulous, beautiful famous women who are single
Over the weekend, I tried to distract myself by attempting to get into conversations with other guys. Unsurprisingly, this did not work at all. I guess there is something to that bullshit line that things come when you least expect them. In other words, I still believe that line is a crock of shit – you have to put your shingle up somehow – but not putting as much effort into it *cough* practicing ambivalence *cough* helps. Still, that was a tad disheartening.
And, most importantly, I need to focus on shit I need to get done elsewhere in my life. I recall that one of the main reasons I was able to churn out my dissertation was because I threw myself into it after Same Dude Different Day ghosted on me. Granted, my heartbreak over that was significantly and substantially different than what I’m dealing with now. It’s like a broken foot compared to a stubbed toe. With P, I stubbed my toe. It still smarts a bit, but I’ll be fine.