“The Married Girl on Bumble? It made me very uncomfortable and frankly a little embarrassed at first. I just couldn’t understand why it had to sound so scandalous”, my mom finally admitted while we were casually talking about love and relationships.
“But now I’m your biggest fan! Why haven’t you been writing as often as you used to?”
“I feel like I have nothing to say. I’m hoping once my divorce is finalized and the papers come through, I’ll get inspired to write again.”
It’s a chilly, Sunday evening in autumn. I’m back in my little apartment in the city after spending most of my weekend up in Markham with my family – my dad gives me a ride home, but not before my folks make me feel guilty for wanting to have half a day to myself:
“Thanks for visiting – even though you didn’t stay long enough”
“When will you be back?”
And of course the harshest one I’ve heard/ my favorite one so far: “Do you even miss us? Sometimes I feel like you love your phone more than you love me” my mom says.
“Mom, my phone is just a combination of all the things I love. Including you. You’re in here too, it’s not fair to compare!”
I get out of the car, kiss my parents goodbye, and run a little too quickly towards my building. I eagerly jump on my bed, take out my laptop, put some music on and clean my room, hoping that Feng Shui might help clear my head and inspire me to write. If you know me personally, this is literally the farthest I have ever gone to achieve anything.
I stare at the white monitor: nothing. I feel betrayed- I can’t believe I hung my clothes and mopped the floor – and still not a word on this damn page. This is pure bullshit!
I sit for a little while in my clean apartment and try to think of words. Oooh, I know!!!! Maybe I can manifest a new blog entry into reality: I close my eyes and imagine posting a BRAND NEW blog on my scandalous website! I open my eyes and the blank page mocks my lame attempts.
I feel like I need to get out.
Where are my jeans? Oh right… in the closet.
I text a friend and we meet at our usual spot. I get my vodka soda and she orders her IPA beer.
She asks how the blog is coming along. I use my frustration to squeeze the wedge of lime into my drink and watch as the pulp dances its way in between the little ice chips. I take a big gulp, chew on a piece of ice and tell her I’m stuck with a blank page. She tells me she’s having a hard time writing her music. “I feel like there’s a flood in here.” She points at her chest. “It just needs to be set free.”
Cheers to unblocking our minds. We clinked our glasses together, and quickly move on from our failure as artists onto our failed attempts at love and relationships.
She tells me about her person.
I tell her about mine.
We talk about the games and the politics. All the effort you put into seeming like you don’t care, all the attempts at not looking too desperate, too thirsty, too crazy.
This fear of not being on the same page, of scaring him into thinking you want to move too fast, get too serious too soon. My friend and I are both stuck in these relationships things with no labels – just a bunch of useless emotions that don’t add up to a word. So we swallow our words, and hold back our thoughts, and take our phones out and look at memes, and promise to text each other anytime we feel the need to talk. Whether we’re afraid of falling in love, getting rejected, hurt, or even having to commit, we’re halfheartedly holding onto all the non-relationship relationships around us.
I come home and the floodgates are open and everything makes sense. I type away all evening “We’ve been holding back, biting out tongues, scared of admitting how we really feel (even to ourselves), and we’ve deprived our minds and hearts of love and pain. We’ve tamed our emotions, shut down the butterflies, and ignore our gut feelings, for the fear of having our hearts broken or being walked all over. As long as the games are being held, we are here to play, and we get better, colder and more ruthless each day. But I think that while we’re all too preoccupied with the idea of winning the dating games, we keep losing a bit of our spark with each victory.”
The Married Girl On Bumble 