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*Not really any spoilers—although pic at the end gives away something about a certain cast member’s relationship*
“What’s wrong?”
“Why didn’t you text me this morning?”
”Do you still love me?”
I’ve asked all of of these questions (and more) of past partners. If you’re rolling your eyes. I get it, but stay with me. You might recognize what’s under the surface, especially if you’ve been betrayed. I never asked these questions prior to being cheated on.
When I heard many of these questions asked on the popular reality show, Love is Blind, by cast member Chelsea, I was (at first) nauseated. I quickly humbled myself when I thought, “Oh fuck, I used to ask that shit all the time, too!” When I see someone ask the above questions, I know it’s because they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s a defense mechanism. It’s a trauma response. They’re trying to discover the bad thing before it even happens.
If you’re watching this season, you already know that Chelsea has been cast in the part of needy, clingy, insecure, and emotionally unstable. Cue one of my favorite Carly Rae Jepsen songs. She is incredibly self-conscious about her body and her emotions and this is (probably) extra played up by editing. Chelsea has been cheated on in a past relationship (perhaps more than once). She comes across as highly insecure and we (the viewers) are supposed to be deeply annoyed by her.
I watch a lot of dating reality shows and they are entertaining, frustrating, and maddening. The women on these shows are particularly caught up in the societal bullshit of thinking they need a partner (and marriage) to be happy and live a fulfilled life. They are vying for love from mediocre men at every turn. I am often eye-rolling and cringing, but not just at them—at my past self as well.
With Chelsea, she is called “clingy” by her partner (as are most women who show any sort of relationship insecurity). She wears her ex-partner’s cheating like a bruise and she often seems to poke at it. I recognize this behavior all too well. It’s what you do when you don’t know how to trust someone. It’s what you do when you’ve had the rug pulled from under you. It’s what happens when you haven’t worked on yourself.
Chelsea wants her partner to not only tell her he loves her, but to do so in a certain way and tone. She critiques her partner saying, “When you do say ‘I love you,’ you don’t really say it, you say, ‘love you.’” Chelsea believes this means her partner doesn’t really love her. In fact, she is probably looking for every reason to believe her partner doesn’t love her as that will assuage her anxiety and prove it correct. To a person who has never experienced relationship anxiety or trauma, you will internally scream at this. I don’t agree with how Chelsea has handled her insecurity, but I understand it. When you’ve been betrayed (or assaulted) by a partner, you notice every little thing they do. You notice their mood shift—even if it’s imperceptible to anyone else. You’re wired to do this as a way of protecting yourself from further pain. This is a great skill for urgent, life-or-death situations, but it’s not so helpful otherwise.
Dating and looking for a relationship from this insecure and desperate place is not healthy. No one will ever be able to reassure you enough to where you actually believe them. Some of that reassurance needs to come from within.
In my first relationship after being cheated on by A, I accepted the bare minimum from M thinking it was miraculous. Oh wow, you’re texting me when you said you were going to text me? Oh dang, you’re telling me you love me just because? Holy shit, you’re seriously going to come pick me up so I don’t have to drive? Whenever I did have moments of excruciating insecurity, I would talk it through with my partner. M and T (my last two long-term relationships after having been cheated on), would listen, but there was a blankness. I would still leave the conversation feeling “crazy.” It didn’t help that though they would do the motions of listening to my concerns, they would just stare at me as I cried. Sadly, I’ve never dated a man who wasn’t uncomfortable with tears. All I wanted was to be held in those moments. I didn’t want to ask for it. I shouldn’t have had to ask for it.
It certainly wasn’t fair to M and T that I withheld trust because of an injury caused by another person. I didn’t really “withhold,” since that signifies to me a conscious choice, but M and T may have felt this way. Prior to having been cheated on by A, I was mostly the type to trust someone until or unless they proved otherwise. This became the case for any type of relationship. After I was cheated on, I couldn’t trust someone until they proved they were trustworthy. This is all fine and good, but I never actually got to a place where I fully trusted anyone I dated. I always had suspicions in the back of my mind. I was never able to relax.
Though society laughs at women like this, dating from this place is absolute hell.
All of that to say, none of the people I’ve dated (mostly cishet men) have been at my same level emotionally. None have been cheated on (that they know of). None have seemed to comprehend how society mocks women’s relationship trauma. I was the problem because I (sometimes) vocalized my insecurity. I think my exes thought I wanted them to fix it. Unlike Chelsea though, I often internalized my relationship anxiety. Eventually, it would all just shake around inside me until I would have an emotional release—billions of tears and sniffles—alone, always alone. I never wanted my partner to see me this way. Women who act like this are considered “crazy” and “unstable” by men. I also knew that any adjustment a partner would make to accommodate my insecurity might make me feel better for a bit, but that aching, gnawing feeling was never going to leave.
Relationship anxiety/insecurity is something a person needs to work on themselves and it can’t usually be done when in a relationship. This work can, of course, be aided by a partner, but so much of it is about your personal trauma. With A who cheated on me, I asked insecure questions because my gut knew something was up. I felt it in my bones. I didn’t trust myself, though. I thought it was just my anxiety. He would tell me everything was fine. I noticed his inattention. I noticed him pulling away. He stopped telling me he loved me. I asked him if he still loved me one day and he responded very cheerful, “Yes, of course I still love you! What are you talking about?” I later realized that if I feel the urge to ask a partner if they still love me, I already know the answer.
This was similar to the ending of my last relationship. T was experiencing personal issues with a family member. I was doing my best to support him through it. I noticed him pulling away. I noticed his texts were shorter and shorter. I noticed he put me on the back burner and I was fine with that (why was I fine with that?!). In the end, I initiated that breakup conversation since he was too much of a coward to do it. I think back and wish I hadn’t, though. I have a long history of making things easier, convenient, and more comfortable for men.
In the finale episode of this season’s Love is Blind, AD, the only Black woman who made it to the finale says, “And I keep, like, doing so much for these men and carrying these fucking relationships, and like, it’s just not fucking enough.” I felt like this especially after my last relationship ended. The labor that many women end up doing in their relationships with men is a dead-end. The men we date need to be putting work into the relationship, too, and if they’re not, then they’re simply not worth it. You shouldn’t put your all into someone and expect it in return. You’ll always end up disappointed.
After my last relationship swelled and burst, I finally learned how to decenter men and romantic relationships (something I wish for anyone who dates, but especially those who date men). I’m sad it took me so long to decenter men. I cry for 20-something and early 30-something Lachrista who didn’t know another way and kept giving her all to men who never deserved it, nor valued it.
I finally got to the place where I’m at now: not caring if I ever enter another romantic relationship for as long as I’m alive in this body. I haven’t given up on romantic love, but I love my single life and that’s something I never thought I would say (or write). I love my autonomy. I love my peace.
God help any man who tries to disrupt my peace ever again.
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Good for you!!! I feel like when I finally ended up there- prioritizing the peace- things started to shift. We have some serious patterning of needing relationship security to feel safe in general in our nervous systems- so that’s HUGE! (And a big part of the revolution that’s coming I think)