the solipsist in love

The “boyfriend” issue

Hello, darlings. I know I haven’t posted in a while. I could give lots of excuses – dates, depression, grad school-related freakouts, “actual” writing, and various productive activities (including the Progressive Reading Series event at the Makeout Room on Saturday night – lots of fun, but god do I hate the bar scene). But it doesn’t matter to you, does it? That’s okay. I thought I’d post a quickie to tide you over until I can get something substantial written later this week.

I saw Seth twice last week. The first time, over dinner, I did manage to mine him for information that would lead me to believe he is a wounded, sensitive soul like yours truly, and that was basically a success. The fact that he isn’t batshit-crazy means that I am not tearing my hair out over the prospect of spending my life with him (or is that, dare I suggest it, a sign that I might be growing saner in the realm of relationships? A girl can dream…) but I’m pretty happy with that.

On Saturday night he met me at the Makeout Room and proceeded to drag me unexpectedly to some Google party a few miles away. If you didn’t know this about me, I really dislike surprises that involve putting me in a room full of strangers for any length of time. I’m completely socially inept and it takes me hours, sometimes days, to mentally prepare for that kind of event. (For this reason I am terrified of this weekend’s Folsom Street Fair, which will be my first, in the company of Seth’s poly entourage no less.) So I knocked back a second G&T (jesus, were they strong; props to the Makeout Room) and we headed over. Well. First of all, it was a costume party which of course I was not prepared for. Luckily the cocktails were working their magic and I didn’t care much about any faux pas I may have committed. I was served champagne and was promptly drunk, but managed to keep deadly quiet throughout our appearance. I got to meet Seth’s long-term partner, who seemed nice enough, and her other boyfriend. I also got to listen to conversations among several Google employees and their lovers or whatever. Let me tell you, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so stupid in my life. And I enjoy dating nerds, or at least I continue to gravitate toward them, but these were SuperNerds. Which is cool; I respect formidable levels of intelligence. But man oh man. I felt like some brainless piece of arm candy. I guess there’s a first time for everything.

In the morning after brunch, Seth walked me back to my car and referred to himself casually as my boyfriend. Now, I could have been a good little girl and let this slip right by, then spend the next twenty-four hours agonizing about it with my friends. Instead, I cocked an eyebrow and said, “Boyfriend, eh?” He seemed to be caught off-guard, and began to backtrack. I assured him that I wasn’t trying to argue; I was just curious about whether he really meant it. After all, this was our fourth date. I was, of course, flattered; it’s clear that he likes me, though I honestly can’t comprehend why (if he doesn’t need fixing, then what the hell good am I?). But I hate when people – no, let’s face it, I hate when guys say shit like that just to make a girl go all soft and fuzzy. If someone wants to use a word like “boyfriend,” well, there are expectations attached to that. But then I thought about it: what the hell is so special about being a girlfriend to someone who’s poly and already in a primary relationship? This commitment that in my previous relationships has meant that I must take myself off the market and certainly not sleep with anyone else suddenly loses all of its regulatory import. All I can figure the label to mean is that we like to spend time with each other (and fuck) and plan to continue to do so for as long as that remains true and other things don’t get in the way. Big fucking deal. I don’t even think we know each other well enough to be able to offer serious emotional support. And besides, it’s clear to me that he gets most, if not all, of that from his partner. My obligations are basically zero. His obligations to me are basically zero. And my expectations of him haven’t changed at all. To wit:

Expectations of a Boyfriend (as previously defined by Jana and as still defined in monogamous situations):

• be completely enthralled with me at all times
• read my mind
• understand all of my crazy bullshit and display infinite patience with it
• split my esthetician bills
• plan major events for my birthday
• promise to be with me forever
• plus all of below.

Expectations of Seth as a “boyfriend”:

• be a decent human being
• always tell me the truth when I ask for it
• honor commitments
• be respectful of me
• be great in bed
• think I’m pretty awesome.

But, see, I require all of the latter list from people who choose to spend any time with me at all (except for the great in bed part). So, even if I hadn’t scared Seth temporarily away from the word “boyfriend,” the only thing that would have changed was that I would feel like less of a pathetic waste of flesh for being Single. Which is in itself pretty goddamn pathetic.