Feel free to ask Aunt Acid a variety of questions at [email protected] at any time. Previous installments can be found here.
Someone I was dating/sleeping with chose someone else over me — someone they evidently had very recently met. How do I not feel inadequate? Knowing that someone else was deemed better than me, how do I not feel not good enough?
Feelings are like toddlers. You cannot reason with them. You can only acknowledge them — give them time, validation, attention — and then offer them a distraction.
That means you let yourself feel “inadequate” for a while, or “not good enough,” or whatever you need to feel. Don’t try to fight emotions with logic. Don’t yell at yourself and say, “Stop sniveling! Get dressed! They’re not worth it!” Have you ever told a sobbing toddler, “Don’t be sad”? You may as well scold an avalanche for falling downhill. Sometimes the rocks need to fall and the only thing to do is get out of the way.
So let your toddler self have free rein for a bit. Give it some ice cream, some rom coms, some cuddling, whatever it needs. Then, when you think it might be ready for distraction, consult your inner 70-year-old.
Your inner 70-year-old is fierce. She is epic. She is a cookie-baking, sharp-shooting, crossword-puzzle-in-ink doing motherfucker who can still leave a trail of smoke on the dance floor. She is part Clara from Lonesome Dove, part Twisty Faster, and part Anna Deveare Smith, and when you approach her about this issue, she will say, “Wait, I’m sorry, honey, who are you talking about?” Because she will have completely forgotten the lover in question, having climbed so many mountains, and ridden in so many rodeos, and fucked so many underwear models who were sensitive and giving in bed (or rough, as required).
That said, she’s not going to yell at you either. She remember what it was like to be vulnerable, to have one’s self esteem tethered to so many elements beyond one’s control: the number on the scale in the morning, your boss’s feedback on a work project, the whims of one callow young sex partner.
She will gently point out, though, that unless you untether your sense of self-worth from everything external to you — the scale, the boss, the lover — you will end up drawn and quartered, and you will have done it to yourself. Conveniently, that is the tortured state in which our society often prefers its women; but we don’t have to help it along, now do we?
Romantic / sexual compatibility is at once highly personal — what could be more personal? — and not personal at all. Remember in High Fidelity when Rob is recounting the top 5 things he misses about Laura? It’s not that she was a radiant Solange-type being who could make him come simply by flicking her eyes down to the spot below his belt. No, he says, “I miss her smell, and the way she tastes. It’s a mystery of human chemistry and I don’t understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home.”
The person you were hooking up with was drawn to someone else. Their pheromones were friendly. That’s all. Capitalism wants you to internalize your inferiority and, in a manic attempt to live up to Helen of Troy, buy ten beauty products / weight-loss plans / over-priced accessories.
But, your inner 70-year-old will tell you, in the end the only thing that will help is shrugging and moving on. There are mountains to climb and underwear models to find on the other side whose chemicals will work better with your chemicals. Meanwhile the climbing of the mountains itself will remind you that you can climb mountains, that your strength and resilience and general awesomeness as a human being exists independent of the opinion of any third party.
Love,
Aunt Acid
*
Illustrator: Liana Finck’s work has appeared in The New Yorker, Lilith, Tablet, and The Forward. Her first graphic novel is called A Bintel Brief. Her webcomic, Diary of a Shadow, can be read on her website.
Tags: advice, aunt acid, love, relationships
Related Posts
Aunt Acid: Advice on Making a Life in the Boonies
No, We Won’t Sandwich the Bride: On Handling Gay Tokenism
If Channing Tatum Were Your Boyfriend
Advice From Femputer
Dear Businesslady: Advice on Interfering Parents and Co-Worker Drama
“The Spinster’s Almanac”: Poetic Advice for Raveling and Moving On
This is extremely good advice.
I love this toddler-and-70-year-old thing SO MUCH and am going to use it for EVERYTHING.
I find it helpful to confront my feelings and say boldly, Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the stable, happy mindset that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great — You have no power over me.
And then my feelings flee as a white owl and I rock out to ’80s Bowie.
Man, the Toast does not link to I Blame the Patriarchy NEARLY often enough.
That part at the bottom is the most important – being left for someone else doesn’t mean the other person is better. It means they are a better *match*. Which is neither something you can control, nor something that has any bearing in the larger world.
Still sucks though.
And sometimes is a huge compliment, in fact. Depending on who left you.
Another angle — it means you have a chance at a better match yourself! Who wants to be with someone who wouldn’t choose you? You know? There’s still pain to go through about it, but one should keep reminding oneself in these circumstances: “I deserve someone who chooses me, and I can find an even better match for myself who will choose me!”
“She will gently point out, though, that unless you untether your sense of self-worth from everything external to you — the scale, the boss, the lover — you will end up drawn and quartered, and you will have done it to yourself. Conveniently, that is the tortured state in which our society often prefers its women; but we don’t have to help it along, now do we?”
WHAT TRUTH. Please, someone throw this up, Banksy-style, on literally every man-made structure in North America.
Your inner 70 year old knows exactly where it’s at. Listen to her.
As not a 70-year-old, but as someone closer to 70 than to 20, can I just say VOUCH, vouchy, vouchy, vouchy. Seriously, the best thing about getting older is learning to recognize where I bring the awesome and just how very ignorable some randoms opinion of me are.
This is very timely as this just happened to me, like, yesterday.
Gotta point out though that it happens to us Olds, too. And it almost hurts worse because one’s diminishing desirability with age is a Real Thing.
I have, and do, kick ass…but honestly despite my solid sense of self at this point I am wondering if I will hit 70 and still be alone. And it makes me afraid.
But fuck it, pulling up my (well worn) Big Girl Trousers and getting on with it. This, too, shall pass.
(((Hug)))
(((back atcha)))
All the hugs from me too (or whatever form of virtual comfort you prefer 🙂
I love it that you stated your “solid sense of self”. I’m sure you will, indeed, get on with it. Take care and kick ass!
Aw, thank you, sweetie! This helps, it really does. （＾。＾）/
Agreed. At my age, the next one *isn’t* going to be coming along in a minute. So what do I do with all the affection in me that literally nobody wants?
I have decided to volunteer at the humane society once a week, as I’m lucky enough to have the time to do so. The animals don’t care about my laugh lines and age spots!
May we all channel our inner Sybil Ramkin in such moments of quiet fear, even if we don’t have a mass of family money on which to fall back. I remind myself that even friends whose lives have followed the love/marriage/kids/grandkids path haven’t always seen it work the way they expected it to, and sometimes they envy their single friends what they see as self-sufficiency and freedom. That usually smartens up the elastic on the Big Girl Clothes enough to get me through (although sometimes a wee nip of scotch is an acceptable shortcut).
Ah, thank you for this–exactly what I needed to hear. I’ll just be back here with my dragons, minding my business.
The thing I keep telling myself–or reminding myself–is that as lonely as I may feel now, I have experienced far worse loneliness as half of a dysfunctional couple. And I never want to go through that again.
But a wee nip of scotch is never amiss!
The main image took me a moment. “Egg…and…chapstick?”
I…. I… still don’t get it.
I’m still not sure I “get it.” I like it. I see it as a representation of “we’re all different and have different purposes in this life and that’s cool.”
My “got-it” moment was thinking that it was an I’m-rubber-you’re-glue thing, but now I doubt myself!
I don’t know why rubber would be freaking out, honestly. Back to square one with this. Submit yr conspiracy theories accordingly.
Low-budget representation of bawling toddler (rubber ball) and sage 70-yr-old (lip balm)?
Why did I not have anyone to say this to me when I needed it?
This advice is perfection and I can’t WAIT to be Anna Deveare Smith.
I am an old person and I give two pieces of advice to the young in this situation. First, I think it helps to put yourself in their shoes. When you are considering two possible dating options and you choose one over the other, it’s not because objectively the one you chose is so much better in all universal respects than the one you didn’t choose, but that one suits you better. And that finding holds in the reverse, as noted above. Secondly, why would you want to be stuck with someone who didn’t think you were the most awesome thing ever? It’s a gift that they chose someone else, because it means that you’re not going to be dating someone who has doubts about your suitability for them. You need to hold out for that person who thinks you’re the bees knees.
Thank you for sharing this advice! It’s important and helpful to hear the “feelings are like toddlers” message. I’ve been frustrated by my seemingly reallllllllly slow process of getting over someone and have recently lapsed into “Arrrgh, stupid brain, stop bringing him up! argh, stupid, stupid!” but acknowledging the thought/feeling for a moment and then letting go of it without beating myself up FEELS so much better. Thanks, thanks!
I definitely could’ve written this letter, and needed to hear this, so thank you!
Where was this advice three years ago when I was sobbing on a stranger’s couch because I had just been “dumped” by the guy I had been sleeping with?
That’s very sensible advice. I’m still waiting for the 70 year old to come — the inner toddler is so damn stubborn. I’ll give it time though.
My best wishes to everyone who’s going through shit like that. Let’s kick ass. Let’s climb the fucking mountains.
Never try to be like Helen of Troy is basically my life motto. BEING DESIRED BY ALL THE MEN IS ACTUALLY THE WORST, THEY WILL START A STUPID WAR.
Never try to be like Helen of Troy is basically my life motto. BEING DESIRED BY ALL THE MEN IS ACTUALLY THE WORST, THEY WILL START A STUPID WAR.
Thank you. Just thank you.
Twisty Faster shout outs on The Toast are getting right into my personal Venn intersections, you glorious scoundrels
Thank you so much. This is beautiful.