Oh, and One More Thing…
Third and final post (for now!) about the problematic metaphor of dieting/lowering the bar/ordering from a menu method of looking for a partner in the world. In this post, I’ll tackle the third piece of the metaphor: that dating should be like ordering from a menu at a restaurant. You should, so my client read, go into a dating scenario prepared to select what you do and don’t want from some predetermined list of what’s out there. I’m not sure how far the author intended for this analogy to go—do you send the “order” back if it’s not “done” right? What does that mean in the real world?
Whatever the author’s intent, what I found off-putting about the analogy was the me-me-me-ness of it; the idea that you would write people off in the same way you would write off a menu option because you don’t like pork, or you like your steak medium-rare, or whatever. Perhaps you think that’s contradictory of me. My previous writings, after all, may be seen as encouraging a sort of focus on the self that some might view as permission to approach dating in just this way. Not so! When you genuinely feel a sense of “okayness” about who you are, and when you understand what that means to you, you have no desire to write anyone off. You just know what kind of experience you’re looking for with another person, and what kinds of experiences you’re absolutely not. It’s not physical features or even superficial traits that will give that away; it’s knowing yourself and attuning to your feelings deeply when you’re around different people, and then reflecting on those experiences afterward.
For example, I’ve worked with many folks who, after a few months in therapy, begin to describe feeling less satisfied in some of their relationships with friends, family, coworkers, etc. They’ll speak about conversations with formerly close friends who they still care very much about, but with whom they’ve begun to notice troubling patterns. “I realized lately that I always wind up feeling bad about myself after we hang out,” they’ll say, or “He loves to play devil’s advocate, and I just give in after a while and say, ‘you’re right,’ so we can just move on to something else,” or “I wasn’t really worried about this thing, but after talking to her, I almost had a panic attack. Looking back, I kind of think that happens a lot.”
We start exploring these patterns and often discover that what looked like a very appealing relational dynamic from a certain perspective (before we started developing that compassionate expertise I talked about in the first blog entry) doesn’t feel so fulfilling now that we’re more in touch with deeper needs and not so dependent on external validation. Folks start deciding that they’re ready for a different kind of experience in their relationships.
The “order off a menu” approach sounds like you go in and say, “I’d like a medium-tall, gainfully-employed, highly-intelligent, etc. etc.,” which misses the point. There are plenty of medium-tall, gainfully-employed, highly-intelligent jerks out there, and there are plenty of people who fall outside those parameters who can offer exactly the kind of relational experience you may be looking for. Think about the kind of experience you want to have; not the way the mental picture of that experience looks on Mental Instagram.
We all do this, right? We fantasize about the kind of experience we want, but then we kind of weigh it down with all the little details our mind generates that must be part of the experience: the exact person or kind of person we’ll share it with; the place we’ll be; how we’ll look; what job we’ll have or what our financial or personal situation will be; etc. Those imaginings, while natural and even fun and important, can limit us if we allow them to become rigid conditions we place on our future relational opportunities.
I’ve worked with women who say, “I feel like I’m ready to share my life with someone, but is that crazy? I’ve just been through [fill in the blank: a divorce; a major life change; a death in the family]. Nobody would want that, would they?” Rather than self-limiting like we’re on a diet, or deciding ahead of time that we know exactly what will please us (as if we have any control over all those variables anyway) like we’re ordering off a menu, what if we just devote some time and energy into knowing and appreciating ourselves well? Then, we can take responsibility for who we are and what we bring into a relationship—the good, the complicated, and the potentially painful—and trust that our partner can do the same. In fact, we can actively seek partners who seem capable of doing just that. What would that look like?
Therapy, again, is a safe space to explore just these kinds of imaginings. The good news is that there’s no expiration date on the self! I’ve worked with patients in their 80’s who are working toward self-actualization, and who have found fulfilment and relief in knowing that they are capable of understanding themselves deeply and with compassion.
The even better news is that feeling okay with yourself and knowing yourself well are gifts that keep on giving. You’re better equipped to continue to grow and change in the direction of your values and hopes, and to deepen and enrich long-term relationships, when you know how to practice compassionate awareness of your desires, motives, mistakes, and patterns. Ultimately, that’s how to feel fulfilled and content in your life.
