I was a sweet, idealistic undergrad in my early 20s. Bubbling with nervous energy, I was often half-drunk and invariably head-over-heels. I wheeled enthusiastically but erratically through life like a wasp around a bin.
The object of my affections in this particular instance was a boy (I couldn’t fairly call him a man, he had a bong shaped like a naked lady in his room) called Jimmy.
I had admired Jimmy obsessively from afar for weeks. I can’t remember what exactly made me so enamoured, but for argument’s sake, let’s go with raging hormones. Despite the fact he’d done nothing to show interest, my gut told me that Jimmy definitely liked me too (spoiler alert: he didn’t). I decided to go all in.
So I did what any girl would do. I tried to climb through his window in the middle of the night.
In my defence, I’d just watched Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo & Juliet, where scaling walls and climbing over balconies is portrayed as the height of romance (instead of what it actually is: creepy). I’d also imbibed one too many shots of Tequila Rose (pink, tastes like Calpol) at the student bar. Of course, these facts weren’t liable to make the situation any less alarming for Jimmy, but I digress.
When I got to said window, I realized it was somewhat higher than I remembered and I was somewhat drunker than I realized. I was still attempting the ascent, skirt hiked around my waist, when Jim poked his head out of the window and said, “err… hi”.
Luckily for me, he did not call the police. He only laughed, and kindly helped me inside for a glass of water. Only the moment I was through the door (window) into the velvety blackness of his room, I realized I had no idea what I was planning to do next.
It suddenly hit me that I was throwing myself at someone who’d shown literally zero interest in me. I was pouring my energy into chasing someone who I didn’t even know well enough to know if I really liked.
I felt drunk, sick, and very embarrassed.
This proved an important lesson for dating later in life.
My mantra while looking for love became “always match someone’s effort”. So when a boy I liked was taking days to reply to my messages, I’d force myself to pivot my attention back to myself instead of chasing him. I asked myself if I knew him well enough to genuinely like him — or if I was just projecting my fantasy boyfriend onto him.
When a man I’d been dating for a year still consistently put everything else first, I asked myself whether the energy we were putting into the relationship was equal. I asked myself whether I’d be happy in this unbalanced relationship if nothing changed. Ultimately, I left.
But it actually applies to all areas of life.
That friend that never shows up to your parties and “forgets” to ask how you are? Stop. You don’t need to handmake them a Christmas present or be at the end of the phone 24/7 when they’re going through a breakup.
That employer who takes your hard work for granted? Stop. Why are you still doing unpaid overtime when it goes unnoticed and unpaid?
That relative who was never very nice until he wanted you to edit his book for free? Stop. This isn’t where you should be placing your energy. What about pouring time into your own hopes and dreams?
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When we’re careful to match others’ efforts, we protect our hearts. When we go where we valued, our lives are enriched. Letting go of obligations to those who don’t give anything in return makes space for awesome relationships and opportunities to come into our lives. For me, it’s been the most important lesson of all.
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This post was previously published on Medium.
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Photo credit: Shayan Ghiasvand on Unsplash