Availability, dating, love, etc.

There’s a line in Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends where, towards the very end of the book, one character says to another: “You know, I still have that impulse to be available to you.” This line struck me when I first read it, because it seemed to describe simply what love is: an impulse, a desire to always be available for a person.

Now, when I first read the book, I hadn’t really dated, but later, when it happened, I saw how this simple need to always be available to someone wasn’t love. Not necessarily. Not always. It was sometimes a sure-fire way of hating yourself and perhaps even hurting others.

I don’t like dating; I’ve vowed to never date. And the reason is this sense of availability, this sense of giving it my all. I haven’t particularly liked any of the, let’s see, two people I can say I dated, even though it’s a stretch, really. But in both instances, there was no real attraction to the person. They were available and bored. I was available and bored. Quite romantic, right?

But this isn’t some pity post. It was a matter of convenience, a way to not be lonely. And we do a lot of things to not be lonely, don’t we? We choose people who can give us anything in the line of intimacy or company or affection. It’s nice when you get it, and beggars can’t be choosers.

Anyway, back to the point. Despite not liking these people, or perhaps because I didn’t particularly like them, I always felt this need to do whatever I could to make sure they would stay. In the first instance, it was a matter of proving that I can in fact date. In the second, it was… well, I haven’t really given it that much thought. I think it was boredom, plain and simple. And I don’t say this to be spiteful; it’s just the truth.

Being available to them meant putting aside my work, my feelings, my bad mental health days to listen to them and be there for them and help them through certain things in life. It meant smiling through hurtful things they said that made me feel small. It meant putting them first at all times, because I felt like I didn’t have the right to demand anything, to ask for anything, to expect anything.

And this works for a while. You make it work. But soon, you get exhausted. And you realise how much of yourself you have given to someone you don’t even really care about. There is shame and guilt and a deep sense of sorrow. And once this hits, it’s difficult to shake off. Sometimes, the person does extend some kindness your way and ends things before you can force yourself into an even smaller space in their life, accepting what little they give you. Other times, you become cruel. You hurt them. You disregard their feelings.

I promised myself I wouldn’t do this to myself anymore. That I will practice some selfishness, I guess. Or rather, let myself want things, ask for things. Let myself make decisions, without just accepting what comes my way (which is easier said than done when not a lot comes your way).

Then, recently, I was talking to someone about the possibility about some casual hanky-pankying (no, I did not use this word when actually talking to them. That would have been an instant no) and I heard myself saying something along the lines of: and if you find that you are interested in someone, I will step aside. This kind of thing doesn’t bother me.

And god, it hit me immediately. I was doing it again. I was telling them that I saw myself as so insignificant, so small that they could just push me aside as soon as they wanted to, and that I was okay with it.

There was this doodle on Instagram about wanting someone to be able to fit in their pocket. When I saw this, perhaps because of the way it was drawn, I thought about how I make myself that small, just so I fit into what little space someone can give me. I make my needs and wants smaller and smaller just to give people a reason to pick me and want me.

Which is a very unsettling realisation to have about oneself, but as I said, this isn’t a pity post. It’s just me putting some thoughts on to a page in hopes that I can revisit this when my current, temporary isolation makes me think it’s a brilliant idea to give dating another try.

And see, this is why I don’t like dating. I know that I can’t resist this behaviour, so might as well avoid the problem entirely.

To add a bit of positivity to this post, since people keep telling me to hold my head high and be positive, I only hate this when it comes to men or dating or whatever. But when it comes to friendship, I like being entirely available to people. Obviously, you need to be picky and you need to put yourself first when it comes to certain people and situations, but I think the impulse to be right there when a friend is upset or struggling or just in need of company is love. It’s also love when you want to be with them regardless of what they are going through, to just watch a movie, listen to music, talk about the stupidest things.

This is love and I’m grateful that I have been taught this. That I have been shown this.

I’ve been thinking about this past year and a half a lot lately. There are certain things going on in life at the moment that I haven’t fully processed yet. That will happen later, but for now, I try to forget the bad things and the sad things. I hold on to those good, happy memories. Wine and Anne with an E. Karaoke at god knows what time in the morning. Lying on a sofa and listening to your friends talk and laugh and be happy. Looking at a roomful of people and realising that you have people you care so deeply about. Looking at a friend and realising that no matter what, you will always have them at your side.