Do you ever feel like you’re on the receiving end of a negative fateful interaction? It feels as though the circumstances have been pre-planned, but instead of working out like a fairytale it becomes your fear incarnated.
I know I need to continue to lose weight, and this is not just for some guy, it’s also for me. I’m more comfortable in a smaller body, I’m very short, I don’t know how to carry the extra pounds with me. It feels uncomfortable. I danced for a lot of my life, I’ve always been fairly active. It is not just my moms voice telling me I’ve gained weight in my head. There’s a difference between that voice and my voice, but for the past two weeks they’ve been one in the same. That is until yesterday, which of course is why I’m now here writing.
A little over a month ago I found out that my ex boyfriend passed away. This prompted me to start to seriously reintegrate. I reached out to old friends I haven’t spoken to in years, I downloaded a dating app. I haven’t been on one date in 3 years. I’ve had a mix of emotions over the past weeks. I’ve experienced anxiety over just seeing my old friends, people who would never judge me. I felt comfortable sharing what I had been through, or at least the important parts of the story. They didn’t make me feel like it was too much, they didn’t make me feel judged. It was going well.
I’ve written about the guy that I started talking to over two weeks ago. We’ve had 6 or 7 or 8 two to three hour phone calls. We video chatted three times. He picked up on some of my idiosyncrasies that he liked. This week it was finally time to meet in person. Thursday was the day, and when I say I had an existential crisis before the date I mean it.
I had an outfit in mind for what I wanted to wear. Even though it’s summer I gravitated toward a 3-quarter length sleeve and jeans. I had an internal meltdown over what shoes I’d be wearing. I reapplied makeup twice. I walked up and down the stairs in my house countless times. Checking every mirror from every angle. Going from thinking I looked ok to panicking and telling him I had to cancel. We were meeting at 5pm and all of a sudden it was 4:50pm. I couldn’t even concentrate on work for the last two hours. It was time, my gut was screaming at me. I knew that meeting for coffee would be the first and last time I would see him.
Why did I know that? How big am I really? To be quite honest, even though I’m not “skinny” I’m not wearing plus size clothes either. I work out every day, but now in my mid 30’s it seems like I may have to get more creative to get back to my size 6 jeans. Even still, before I left the house I had a feeling on how things would play out.
We met for coffee and he held the doors. He paid for the coffee. We sat outside at first. The conversation flowed as it did on the phone. An hour passed, my coffee turned cold. He suggested we move inside for another cup, to sit down away from the crowd that had formed. I thought he was attractive, not perfect of course. But who is? We were just getting to know each other after all. We could clearly hold a conversation, we made eachother laugh. We had a lot in common. We stayed at the Cafe for 3 hours.
Throughout the conversation I didn’t feel ugly, I didn’t even think about my weight. I couldn’t necessarily tell how he felt, I was trying to focus on myself. Do I like him? Do I agree with his opinions? We were talking politics and religion. For me, it was worth giving a chance to someone I connected with. He walked me to my car, but instead of a typical hug he reached out and barely touched me as we embraced.
“Well thats odd”, I thought to myself as I got in my car. I started telling myself all the reasons he wouldn’t hug me like a normal person, instead acting like I had some illness he didn’t want to catch. He couldn’t be that disinterested, if he was why didn’t we just leave after that first cup of coffee? “Maybe he figured I would be uncomfortable since he knew this was my first date in 3 years”. That’s what I told myself as I drove home, messaged my sister. I opened my visor mirror and looked at myself. “I look good” I thought. I was satisfied with the result.
Now, I know it’s been 3 years since I’ve dated, but I haven’t forgotten the protocols after a first meeting. I was expecting a text soon after we left. Something like, “I had a great time” or “can’t wait to see you again”. Crickets. I pushed it out of my mind, checked my phone a few times. Read a book, tried to avoid my phone as much as possible. I went to bed without one word from him. This is odd since we’ve been talking non-stop for weeks.
The next day, Friday morning, I wake up to nothing. I know he works early. The hours pass and I realize he’s ghosting me. The denial is fading and turning into irritability. I go back and forth on if I should reach out, when to reach out, what to say. I get through my day and finally at 5pm say, “Hey! I thought we agreed on not ghosting eachother. It was nice to meet you in person.” He replied back, “Nice to meet you too, I enjoyed our chat.” Cold as ice, different than before we met. “Yeah for sure – so would you be able to give me some feedback? It’s my first time putting myself out there in awhile. I can take it!” He replied back quickly, “I’m just not physically attracted to you.” This is something I already knew. “No worries, I know I need to lose some weight.” I wanted to call out the elephant in the room. Me. “All the best” he replied. Me needing the last word typed, “Yup U 2.” Then I was left to feel the rejection through.
I cried, I sank low in my mind. I had thoughts of “why did I even try.” I got angry at the world. How could he get to know my soul and then reject me because I’m not a Size 0? I got bitter and resentful, “when I lose the weight I hope he sees me and regrets this. I hope he never meets anyone he connects with again.” These were all fleeting thoughts, accompanied with thoughts of how disgusting I was. I tried to read, I felt restless. I walked the dog. I reflected. The thing is, prior to my breakdown (and in my smaller body) I never experienced rejection like this before. I didnt realize the privilege that came with who I once was. And then I realized something else, the connection we built wasn’t as important to him as my physical self. My outside held more than my inside according to him. Do I really want to be with someone like that? Is this the type of relationship that would ever hold longevity if my appearance means more to him than who I actually am as a person? Are there even men out there who can build that type of connection?
Look, I know there needs to be a physical attraction. I know that in the real world I can’t hold that against him. But he saw me prior to meeting on a video call. He even saw me once without any makeup on. This is how I know that the only reason he doesn’t like me is because of my body. The sad thing to me is that while it’s not perfect, it’s not the worst it could be. I fear that a body is all women are to men. We are not our brains, we are not our hobbies, we are not our character traits, we are not even a pretty face. We are barely human. Second rate.
I am just a body, it’s what I’ve been reduced to in this case.
The Girl Without A Face 