theories
After not being able to sleep last night and spending most of today dwelling morosely on this, I'm kind of wondering why I even wanted to write about it. Lately, it seems like every other person I know is part of a couple (everyone in my lab, most of my housemates etc) and I find myself staring at them, wondering what they see when they look at each other, what they talk about when they're alone, what makes them special to each other. I'm not yet so bitter that I can't be happy for other people; I do like to see that happiness is possible but it does make me sad to be so often reminded of what I'm missing out on.
Andrea's post about "the Editor" and going where the fear is, in order to conquer it (the actual post seems to be broken) made me think it might help to finally write this post. I'm certainly afraid of writing this. Last night my heart was pounding and it took a lot of effort to keep from just deleting the post half-written. I'm somewhat protected by the fact that internet people aren't real (sorry, but if you try to disabuse me of this notion I may not be able to post again. I have to pretend real-Phantom-who-I-met is different from blog-reading-Phantom too, or at least that Lucy isn't real-me, otherwise worlds will collide and the quivering wreck that is me-in-therapy will take over the rest of my life), but it's still scary to admit the extent of my freakishness.
Ever since I realised that discussion of liking anyone was easy fodder for merciless teasing from my older brother I think this has been the single topic I've dreaded most being asked about. For the most part, people tend to either leave me out of such discussions, presumably because my discomfort is so obvious, or supply their own explanations for why I never date (family assume that I'm occupied with Serious Research and therefore have no time for such things; the one, rather blunt friend here who asked, assumed I wouldn't want to bother dating anyone here since I'll probably go back to Commonwealthland (I plan to use that excuse myself in future)). In order to avoid questions and well-meaning advice, I've cultivate the impression of indifference, since if anyone knew I cared, then it would seem even weirder that I don't do anything to meet people. Not caring is freakish enough, being miserably lonely and too scared to change anything would be much worse. It's even hard to admit to myself that I do want to date and fall in love because it seems so unattainable. Hmm, or because my inner voice scoffs derisively at the idea and points out that I can't even hold up my end of a conversation or make a real friend so what am I doing even daydreaming something so ridiculous? And thwacks me over the head and tells me to get back to something I ought to be doing, like lab work or cleaning my room (If my inner voice were a separate person, I'd probably be eligible for a restraining order).
One theory is that if I weren't so hyper-analytical and anxious about every interaction with people I could relax and feel something. I can't rule this out, but it's hard to test when I haven't figured out how to not be so anxious. Plus, my one data point that goes with being able to talk to someone (relatively) stands in opposition to this theory, although, not unequivocally so (I was going to go into that, but I'm not sure I want to anymore. Suffice it to say that I didn't really need to ask if it was possible to force oneself to like-like someone, since I have tried and failed). This is actually the most hopeful theory, although it doesn't offer much comfort since being able to relax around people is still an extremely lofty goal.
Theory two is the one that accounts for the only two characters I've ever read about who never felt attracted to anyone either (yeah, they're fictional, but I have to get my information somewhere). One was in Case Histories by Kate Atkinson (I recommend all her books), the other was in some fairly mediocre and forgotten book about three friends and their lives from high school onwards. In both cases the character discovered late in life that she was actually a lesbian. This theory has the flaw that I've never been attracted to a woman either, but zero data points in either direction doesn't rule it out. Of course, it would still presumably have to incorporate theory one, which doesn't make it any more optimistic. Also, surely I would know?
Theory three is the only one that is actually supported by having no data points and the one referred to in the previous post title. The first time I heard of asexuality as an orientation was back when I used to hang out in the online shyness support world. A lot of the descriptions sound like me but I'm still resisting the label. The people in the online forums seem too happy and smug about their situation and it would be too depressing to have to accept that I lack the capacity to ever like-like someone... I did kiss the guy I couldn't make myself like-like, or rather, he kissed me, and I hated it, but I already knew well before then that I didn't actually even like him really, so surely that doesn't mean anything, right?
So why do I have any hope that it isn't theory 3? Mainly that my inner voice constantly warns me not to even think about it any time there's the slightest chance that I might have an opportunity to even think about meeting anyone. That seems to be a confounding factor. Plus, all the asexuality forum people don't seem to care that they're not attracted to anyone, but I do feel like I'm missing something important. Maybe if I had some source of affection, even if it were purely platonic, I wouldn't mind so much either. A hug would probably help a lot. Although, when I lived at home I got plenty of hugs, they just weren't the right kind, I guess. At least I got a few good hugs out of guy I couldn't like-like (almost 3 years ago...).
Oh, I forgot the magical "I just have to meet the right person and all my problems will go away" theory. I'd like to believe in that, but it seems about as realistic as wishing for a fairy godmother. Of course, if you've ever met such a magical person, I'd love to hear about it.
posted by Lucy @ 6:43 PM
13
comments
13 Comments:
Lucy, these kind of posts are tough to write. They're hard to make sound like you're not whining (and you don't sound like you're whining, or whinging if you prefer). They're hard to write without sounding very "woe is me". And this is a topic about which it is pretty difficult to be analytical; nobody really understands attraction, thus the appellations "like-liking", "magical pull", and so on. I think you are doing a really good job talking about this on all accounts. (And this: "If my inner voice were a separate person, I'd probably be eligible for a restraining order" is awesome.)
I don't really know you beyond the "you" that you share with the bloggy world, but if I had to lay money on one of your theories, I would lay money on Theory #1. Your data point against this theory isn't really that relevant in my mind. I think most people are only going to connect with a relatively small subset of the population. Just because you allow yourself to get close to someone doesn't mean that they are a good match for you. If I may be a bit cynical, when you look around at all these people in couples, a number of them are probably not right for each other, at least not in the long term. It's tough to find someone who complements you, and I think that one has to meet a number of people to do that. But then again, all you need is one, right?
Good luck figuring this out. It's probably small consolation, but many, many people take a long time to figure out what they want and need from interactions with other people, and probablye even longer figuring out how to make it happen.
Damn. That was rather long. It's a topic that has been much on my mind the last few years though, and more so the last few months.
I got a very strange phone call last weekend. It was from an acquaintance I had once worked with; he called me out of the blue from Melbourne where he was attending the tennis. My relationship with him has never existed outside of my former work, which I left a year ago, so you can understand my surprise. The reason I mention this odd phonecall is that it was a long distance call that lasted just short of an hour and in that time he told me I always made him laugh, so I assume that's why he called in the first place. I am a firm believer in having someone you can call who can make you laugh. In the course of this crazy conversation it came out that I had never been in a relationship. Of course he thought it was strange, but he was very diplomatic and suggested that one day we could have six children together. He is gay, so you'll know the amount of salt I took that with. I won't say that I've never been attracted to anyone or had the very rare fling or flirtation, and I certainly wouldn't describe myself as either a lesbian or asexual, but I no longer feel self-conscious about not being in or having had a long term relationship. I used to have a 'friend' who felt it was her duty to counsel me about it, which made me feel a whole lot worse. She was just so patronising. I asked a doctor about this once and she said that it isn't as uncommon as you might think. I went through various stages of self-consciousness, loneliness, determined indifference and now I think I have reached acceptance. I think I lead a fulfilled life and I am generally irritated no end by most men, but I also think I would be a difficult person to have a relationship with. Perhaps my outlook will change, I don't know. I always think of my grandmother who got married for the first time at the age of 41 and my sister who is about to get married at the same age. I don't feel the biological sense of doom that women are supposed to feel either. I'm not sure my thoughts help you in any way, or that it's even my place to try, but I guess I wanted to acknowledge how difficult I imagine it was to write your post and to commend you for your courage to talk about what is not only a difficult topic for you, but many other people as well. A big internet *Hug* to you as well.
I was going to add an apology for being so self-piteous, but then I figured I did just add the warning about making a spectacle of my loneliness...
sheepish, I love long comments and thanks for siding with me over my stupid inner voice. I'm glad your thoughts on the subject in your own case are presumably happier now.
Galaxy, thanks for the hug. Your thoughts do help. It makes me feel a little better to hear that other people, who clearly aren't freaks, may share some of my experience.
I have a friend who recently included as a reason for rejecting a guy she'd been kind of seeing the fact that he hadn't had a girlfriend in 4 years, because "that's just not normal". I've known her for 6 years, so that kind of stung.
Eh, Lucy, I hate to always harp on the same topics, but I think the answer is here: "Ever since I realised that discussion of liking anyone was easy fodder for merciless teasing from my older brother I think this has been the single topic I've dreaded most being asked about."
You've had to stunt yourself to protect yourself, and then you blame yourself, as if the fault was something intrinsic to you, instead of an understandable response to the situation in which you found yourself.
People used to patronize me all. the. time about never having been in a relationship. Like it made me less of a person somehow. But you know what? From the vantage point of ten years later, I'm glad I stayed out of the fray for as long as I did. Because I would not have been able to handle it earlier. I was too fragile, too insecure, too messed up. I was too busy trying to figure my way out of my family to figure out being in any other kind of relationship. Waiting until I was ready was the right thing to do -- for me, anyway.
And, yes, I am making the assumption that one day you will feel ready, too.
(P.S. Mr. Blue had never dated anyone either, before he met me. And he's quite a bit older than I am. Screw your friend and her "not normal.")
Phantom, I'm sorry I keep ignoring your insight. You're probably right, but it's hard to ignore the abusive inner voice that says I'm just making excuses (and adds qualifiers like that probably). It helps to hear about you and Mr Blue. Thanks.
Don't apologize, Lucy! Just remember who planted that abusive inner voice within you in the first place. They *want* you to blame yourself. That's how abuse works. It's always your fault, so the abusers never have to take responsibility for the effects of their actions.
It sucks. And it's damn hard to come to terms with. You have my entire full-hearted sympathy.
I was thinking about that this morning, actually. My brother, since doing the landmark stuff, has apologised for making my life hell so now I'm supposed to have forgiven him and gone on with my life. I'm glad he's realised how hurtful his behaviour was, but he's also said he wished I'd stick up for myself more and not give in to him... The thing is, I know he has/had an abusive inner voice too, so I feel bad blaming him (or anyone else).
Plus, even if I did blame someone, it's still up to me to stop wallowing in misery because of things that happened in the past and do something differently if I ever want to feel any better.
Yeah, I understand about the feeling bad about blaming him, since he's got the abusive inner voice, too. I'm in that situation with my mother and sister. But here's the thing. You deserve the chance to work through what you've been through at the hands of others and reach forgiveness on your own terms. The fact that your brother has apologized does not obligate you to forgive and move on right away. That's asking you once again to do things at his convenience instead of how they are best for you, you know?
It's true that ultimately blaming other people isn't going to help you feel better. But I know that, for myself, acknowledging what other people did -- blaming them, being angry at them (even if I did not tell them so), grieving my losses at their hands -- was a necessary step in moving on and learning to feel better.
you're right. I'm sorry you've had to deal with painful family issues, but thank you so much for sharing your hard-earned wisdom. It's very helpful and very much appreciated.
I don't have a lot to add, and I've been thinking of what to say... Here's one thing I want to say: I think you sound like you're a fantastic woman that I would like to be friends with and I'm sure many people would be interested in relating to you on many levels.
Relationships are plain scary because of the vulnerability involved with them.
I want to say I admire your bravery for putting a post like this into the world. I also think you're very reflective for being able to consider a range of theories to help you make sense of things.
Most of all, I'd say trust your heart. If you think it's not theory 3, then it's not, for example. It's up to you, really.
Of course meeting the right person will not make problems go away. In fact, being in a relationship creates a whole new set of issues / problems / what-have-you. This is not a bad thing. It just is.
Thanks, B*. I really shouldn't read comments at work since I end up blinking furiously to avoid crying when anyone says something nice. My first inclination is to avoid drawing attention to the first part of your comment, in case you wrote it by accident and want to take it back, but I wanted to say that it means a lot to me that someone so cool, who I would definitely like to be friends with, would say they might like to be friends with me, too.
Hi NeuroChick. Thanks for commenting. It always helps me to hear from people who can identify with some of my experience and I'm glad I could do the same for you as well. I was hoping you had a blog so I could read more, too.
I hope things improve for you. *hugs*
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