I was talking with my friend Carissa yesterday. She and her on-and-off-again boyfriend Pete are having problems. Pete is extremely embedded in his family, used to being doted upon by his mom and sisters, and not used to having to think about—let alone put out consistent effort for—someone else.
Carissa loves Pete but is frustrated that she constantly feels like an afterthought. Pete does what he wants, and expects Carissa to fall in line. He professes to love her and want to marry her and start a family with her, but spends his money where he wants—from big purchases to small—and doesn’t think to include her in those decisions. Even when they’re grabbing Thai takeout, he’ll order and pay for his meal and then walk away, leaving her at the counter. (Given that they live together and that she buys and cooks all the groceries and meals at home, and that he eats more of the groceries than she does and that he earns six times what she does, it rankles her when he doesn’t offer to pick up the tab for her take out every so often.)
Carissa is frustrated by his “selfishness and stinginess” (her words, not mine) and I get concerned that she stays in—or returns to—a relationship where she’s constantly frustrated.
I once asked her if she ever thought about holding out for a relationship where she feels like she can have productive discussions with her partner, rather than push him to where she wants him to go, and with someone who she feels prioritizes her and their relationship. For me, I wouldn’t want to walk into a binding legal agreement with someone with whom I was already feeling resentful and frustrated. Her reply?
“He is what I want. He’s a sweet soul, and I’ve never been more attracted to anyone physically than I am to him.”
While I would make a different choice were I in her shoes, I understand where she’s coming from. She has something close to what she’s hoping for and she’s scared that there’s nothing better out there for her. So she’s willing to settle and come to terms with where they stand on various issues in the relationship to hang on to him.
But what I want to remind her of is that we don’t go backward. Sure, we might repeat the same lesson over and over until we finally learn and integrate it, but overall, we don’t go back and date someone terrible after we’ve dated someone kind. And we don’t stay with someone who discounts us after we’ve experienced someone who communicates along the way.
I wish I could get her to see that while each relationship has its particular challenges, it’s also possible that Pete is merely a stepping stone to level her up from the men she used to date toward the one who will make her feel treasured.
Before you get what you want, you get something close to what you want. You get the not-quites and the almost-theres. Before you get the gold, you get the bronze or the silver. You persevere and develop your skills and talents, or your communication and boundaries within relationships, and eventually get the gold. This applies to anything where relating to others is foundational—friendships, jobs, and relationships.
Consider that many people are no longer as tight with their childhood best friends well into their 30s and 40s. If they are, it usually means that the pair have had similar life experiences around similar times that have allowed them to grow in a similar direction together. But if one goes off to travel the world and get a high-powered job and the other stays in the hometown and gets married and has children right after high school, they may stay friends, but they will struggle to relate as well to one another as they did when they were in similar life circumstances.
On each of our personal journeys of evolving, we take steps. We grow into new roles. We shed boundaries that constrain us or no longer fit and protect us. We adopt new standards and new boundaries to meet us where we are, with maybe a little stretch for where we’re going. We don’t often leap from zero to 60; We don’t get the President of Giant Bank job right out of highschool, we go to college to prove some level of grit and determination, and then we get entry-level jobs, learning more about the company and the industry as we go. And even when we bounce from company to company, each new role is a step forward. We don’t often slide backward.
Dating is a lot like that. When you start dating in your late teens or early 20s, you are essentially trying on different aspects of someone’s personality. You’re learning to relate and communicate. You’re learning how to navigate relationship sticking points—like selfishness or stinginess— and how (whether?) you want to deal with them. You’re figuring out your red flags and dealbreakers, as well as your green flags and must-haves. With each new person you date, you’re getting closer and closer to what you’re looking for, and ideally, you’re also up-leveling your ability to communicate authentically and vulnerably.
Carissa, I wish you could have the faith in yourself that I have in you. I wish you had experienced a man who treasured you and made you feel like a priority—or at least an equal partner—so you would know what you deserve and how it feels when you get there. I wish you could see that Pete is probably a Not-Quite, and that the real deal is still out there waiting for you. I wish you dared to leave the comfort and familiarity of what you’ve tried to be open for someone new.
I wish you had the same love for yourself as your friends do for you.
But whatever you choose, we’ll be here for you, with a fully-charged remote. We’ll cheer you on and remind you that you have passed those lower levels and are prepared. You can handle this level and you are ready for the next thing that comes. Because that’s what friends do.
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
***
You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
 White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism |
 Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box |
 The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer |
 |
—
Photo credit: Shutterstock.com
