Today, I just can’t do it. I can’t sit down at a keyboard and write about the warning signs of narcissism or how to avoid the emotionally unavailable man. I don’t want to talk about communication problems in relationships or how early childhood trauma will most certainly sabotage our relationships if we don’t heal from it. I saw another human being murdered on camera, and I just don’t want to offer advice about swiping left or right in the face of massive human rights violations from our government.
Frankly, I’m over here wondering how anyone has the time or emotional bandwidth to worry about dating right now. I’m too busy contacting my elected representatives to worry about some man’s texting consistency. I’m too stressed worrying about what’s happening behind the closed doors of immigration centers to give any focus to dating, even as a general concept. I am so fed up with the patriarchy that I can’t muster any enthusiasm about dating or men.
I know I’m not alone. Writers everywhere are staring at blank pages, wondering how we’re supposed to produce words about topics when our brains are overwhelmed with images of murdered Americans and the masked men empowered by the government to murder them. I know that relationships matter, even during fascist regimes, but I also know that it’s hard to sit down and write something that feels inauthentic in light of more pressing concerns.
My dating advice is likely harsh right now.
For instance, I’d say not to date anyone who would justify the existence or actions of ICE. I wouldn’t speak to any potential partner who shared misinformation. I’d cut off current partners who aren’t loudly advocating for human rights. Throw them all out, I say. Every single person who isn’t speaking against fascism is participating in it.
It would be a line drawn in the sand. Voted for Mango Musselini? Hard pass! Still justifying government-sanctioned violence against anyone, regardless of citizenship status? Goodbye! Healthy partners have healthy outlooks, and we need to be hearing what they’re saying and watching how they’re living, not just believing what we want to believe because we see some imaginary good in them.
Honestly, I don’t have the energy to talk about the signs of narcissism we all see but want to ignore for a pretty face. I don’t want to talk about signs of an emotionally unavailable man when the real issue is our attachment to him and our inability to leave when we realize that he’s going to avoid intimacy with the same level of enthusiasm we would use to oppose injustice. I don’t want to talk about dating trends when people are being kidnapped on the streets.
There are more productive activities than dating.
Instead of using dating apps, we can download apps that help us easily contact our representatives to advocate for the abolishment of ICE and the defunding of police. Instead of analyzing what some man said or did, we could be watching the evidence of human rights violations and making other people aware of them. Instead of drunk texts to exes, we can make sure our congressional representatives feel our wrath. We can add our voices to the outcry. We can make sure we’re the kind of people who will do whatever it takes to protect our neighbors.
I can’t write about toxic relationships when I genuinely feel that every relationship not fighting together against fascism is a toxic one. I can’t offer any sound advice on relationships I wouldn’t entertain on my worst day. I can’t cover an insignificant topic when my mind is replaying the deaths of so many people.
Today, I just can’t find it in me to care about dating.
My income is tied up in my work, and I have to sit down and write. But the words won’t come. I can’t find it in me to write another listicle, no matter how well-received it might be. I can’t just push aside all the pain and write about something that I can’t find it in my heart to care about right now.
I am doing everything I can just to get through the day, so if you ask for my advice, I’m going to tell you to dump him if he’s not doing everything in his power to fight against fascism. I don’t care if he is or isn’t a narcissist. I don’t care how quickly he texts you back or what his relationship is like with his mother. I don’t care how tall he is or how emotionally mature he seems to be. I only care to know if he’s showing up on the front lines to fight against injustice or if he still doesn’t care because it’s not affecting him at all.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Art Institute of Chicago on Unsplash
