I honestly don’t have the time or energy to fill you in on the backstory of everything that’s been going on, but, suffice it to say, Jay and I were dating last spring, and I ended things because he was completely objectifying me and making me feel like I was nothing more than a pair of legs. A few weeks ago, he reached out to me, and I kind of blew him off. I felt bad for that (what am I, Jewish, with all this guilt??), so I reached out to him yesterday. We texted a bit and made plans for grabbing lunch this weekend.

Tonight, we were texting again when he straight up, out of nowhere asked if I had enjoyed the way we were having sex the last time we were dating (those whole 2 times in 6 weeks of dating). I was completely stunned. Like, unable to coherently think, stunned. Um, I’m sorry, we literally have not had voice to voice contact, nor have we seen each other since we broke up, but you’re already objectifying me and treating me like I am your sexbot??

I had brunch with T last weekend, and during lunch I was bemoaning the idea that I might never be with anyone again, since I didn’t think they would ever find me attractive. She was absolutely shocked. “I can’t even believe that you see yourself as anything less than gorgeous,” she said. “I mean, I just don’t understand how you see yourself as unattractive in any way, shape, or form. It’s as ridiculous as saying that the sun appears black to you all the time.” That was the third such conversation I had had recently with friends about my fears that I am not attractive enough to get a guy. I’ve even said that I absolutely do not fear that I am not smart enough or funny enough – for me, it all hinges on my attractiveness.

So really, why should I be surprised when the only guy I’ve opened up to in the last two years (since my divorce) treats me as purely a physical object, based only off my attractiveness? I’ve placed so much emphasis on wanting to be attractive to guys, so I have clearly attracted what I wanted, right?

I can not even begin to describe how disgusted I felt when Jay made that comment tonight. Like I wasn’t worthy of being wooed or won back or even spoken to appropriately – no, he’s here for my “hot legs and ass” so what more could I expect?

I’ve been trying to accept people as they are, and not project my own expectations and desires onto them. I really thought that I could do that with Jay. Okay, he’s a bit shallow and narcissistic, but we have great sex, so I just need to keep my feelings separate. You know what? When someone is so blatantly disregarding of my feelings, I can’t help but take it personally. I told him off, and ended the conversation, and I don’t plan on honoring our lunch plans.

But I’m not sorry that I reached out. Because this was clearly something I needed to learn, and maybe this was the only way I could learn it. If you continually put out into the Universe that you want to be valued for your body/looks, the Universe will give you that! The Universe will say, “Okay, you have no questions about your intelligence or compassion or humor, so here’s a guy who values you for nothing more than your body. That’s what you wanted, right?? For someone to validate your looks, and only your looks??” I get it now. Like a “Eureka” moment, I get it now.

Yes, I want someone to find me beautiful, but I want them to find ME beautiful – not just my body, or my smile, or my intelligence, or my witty comebacks – ME, the entirety of me. I want someone who wants the entire package of who I am. If someone can’t see past my looks to the greatness of me, than why would I want them in my life? Those are not people that I would be able to talk with until sunrise, debate why the Jedi were not as smart as they liked to think they were, cook new meals with, walk around downtown and rediscover our city, read books to, cheer at football games with. Those are people who only value my shell. And I can no longer tolerate those people.

– Finch


An interview that turned into something so much more

Last week, I interviewed for a new job. Let me say, this was one of the longest and most inquisitive interviews I have ever had, and I think that is saying something, seeing as interviews are supposed to be pretty darn inquisitive. They asked me what my best friend would say about me, what my worst enemy would say about me, what I would do if I won the lottery, what I would do if I didn’t win the lottery (um, work?), whether I was generally happy or melancholy… This went on for over an hour. The interesting thing though, was I answered the same way for what I would do if I won the lottery and what I would do if I didn’t win. For both, I said that I wanted to work in some way with municipalities to improve green spaces, better manage water resources, and improve public transportation. The only difference was that I would do it for free if I won the lottery.

Here is why this was so eye-opening to me – I am very good at my job now. Incredibly good. Every boss I have ever had in this line of work has said that I was the best legal assistant they have ever worked with. I take a lot of pride in that. And yet, it seems that my passion lies somewhere else. Let me tell you, this is not something which I have harbored for years, and it is only now coming to the surface. I have no idea when this became a big thing for me. Or maybe I do.

About eighteen months ago, I read The Contrary Farmer by Gene Logsden. I instantly fell in love with everything this man said. I bought many (many) books on backyard gardening, on creating my own space in the world. My friend D and I used to talk constantly about buying a pecan farm in East Texas and setting up a B&B. And yes, people very frequently made jokes about how would I of the 4-inch heels, make a good farmer. I used to tell them that I would use my heels to aerate the soil. As with most of my instant loves, I quickly left it along the wayside, but every now and then, I find myself thinking how nice it would be to have a few acres to grow something.

Then, about six months ago, I found a Master’s degree program in Environmental Sustainability, and I was hooked. I want to do that!! I’m not even sure what “that” is, but I want to do it! I am not really sure what I could do with such a degree, and I am not sure that my GPA will get me accepted in to any of the schools which are offering this program, but I know it is something which I want to do. And with it, maybe I can find a way to work with municipalities to improve their green spaces, manage their water resources, and improve public transportation. For money, of course!

Someone told me yesterday that work for work’s sake was not sustainable. You have to feel passionate about what you do. Only then can you move along your life’s path. Yes, this new job would offer more money, which might help to move me closer to my ultimate goal. But I do not believe that I can sustain working for something which I no longer believe in. It would seem that in interviewing me for their job, my potential employers pointed me down my own path.

– Finch

Identity Flux

So I had this incredibly clear message yesterday that I needed to quiet my mind, relax and meditate to find my path. It was actually a little bit like the Universe was hitting me over the head with a blunt instrument, or speaking to me as if I were a small child. But, regardless, I got the message. Here’s the thing – I don’t really know how to meditate.

I don’t know any chants, and my mind is too restless to just quiet itself. So I started by identifying some very basic information about myself, hoping to work my way to more complex issues. My name is _________________. I am 30 years old. My birthday is _______________. I am divorced.

And then I stopped myself. Why do I self-identify as “divorced”? After I had gotten out of previous relationships I did not describe myself as “broken-up with,” “dumped,” or even “dumper” (although “breaker-of-hearts” may have been a title I tossed around sarcastically every now and then). But still, after every previous relationship I have had has ended, I have gone back to “single.” But “single” means something different to me now. I do feel as if there should be a new title for me. Perhaps “independent” or “individual.” I would rather not get all 1984 and go “citizen.”

Another issue was my hair. When doing this exercise in previous years, I literally used to identify myself as “redhead.” That was a very big part of my identity. It helped me to clarify my personality and my attitude. I used to joke that I had been dying my hair red for so long that all personality attributes normally possessed by a true redhead had become mine. But I no longer feel that I can identify that way. I don’t even call myself a blonde. When cleaning out my car this morning, my hair still looked pretty orangey in the sunlight. I wouldn’t mind thinking of myself as a blonde, but it would have to be a very Hitchcockey type of blonde. Cool, classy, together – very Grace Kelly. Alas, my quirkiness cannot be contained, and I cannot stay in prolonged contact with my inner Grace.

Finally, I tried work. “I am a legal assistant.” But I’m not. That’s what I do, but even then, my job goes above and beyond regular legal assistant duties. I would love to qualify myself as a writer, and I think to a certain percentage, I do. However, I am not published – other than this blog – and I do not write every day. I do feel as if I express myself best when writing – although, to me, speaking is writing out loud, so I’m not too shabby there either!

So while I seek to quiet my mind and find my path, I will keep some simple truths in mind. Who I am. How old I am. When I was born. The fact that I love deeply, and am loved deeply. After that… well, I guess we’ll see what my psyche has to say!

– Finch