There was a time when I was first getting started where I was a bit less discerning. During that phase, it took me a bit longer to sift through, and with pretty much anyone who could compose a sentence, I would have been polite, engaged in a conversation with the crazy, maybe even agreed to meet for coffee just to prove to myself that yes, this person is, in fact, crazy. That time has passed.
Nowadays, I've gotten very adept at screening. My crazy detector is honed so well, that it only takes a few messages for me to get to the heart of the matter. But every now and then, one gets past me.
I'm speaking of course of the Jehovah's Witness of online dating: the "ethical non-monogamist."
(Disclaimer: Before you polyamorists out there get your feathers all ruffled, please understand that I am not speaking out against your life choices. I support everyone's right to get it on - er, I mean - conduct their romantic life - in the way that they choose. If it works for you, Love On, my friends!)
Ethical non-monogamy is sometimes called polyamory. This is, in the simplest of terms, the idea that intimate romantic relationships need not be exclusive or monogamous, as long as everyone involved is aware and ok with it. From what I understand, for some, it is a wonderfully free and open way of life. The folks I've met who ascribe to it seem really, really happy with it. There are plenty of poly folks on the online dating sites, And some, can be almost evangelical.
I crossed paths with someone a few weeks back who decided that he was going to convert me. Even after I said, "Thanks, but no thanks. That sounds like it works for you, but it doesn't work for me." He kept on! "Well, have you thought about XYZ? If you consider that, you may change your mind."
"No. I am sure I'm not going to change my mind. I'm not going to be convinced. I'm not interested. Thank you."
Getting this guy off my metaphorical front porch was a real chore. Yes, I suppose I could have just blocked the messages, but I something in me kind of snapped, and I launched into my own diatribe.
I told him: I believe in love, sir. At the risk of sounding trite and cheesy I believe in saving all my love and attention for one person.
So here I am, standing up for what I believe in:
I believe in love. Not in the fairy tale version - where a kiss from Prince Charming instantly transforms you. But in the kind where you find a person that reveals the best, most resilient, most noble parts of you, and you invest your heart in that person.
I believe in the love that inspires you to be the best version of yourself. I believe in the kind of love that supports your growth and inspires reflection. The kind of love comprised of a thousand little choices every day. The one that takes another's needs into consideration and leads you to make decisions that are good for you, but are not bad for your partner. I believe in unselfishness - not martyrdom - but unselfishness.
I believe in love that is durable - that grows and stretches. The kind that can take the bumps and bruises of everyday life - because life can be brutal. Fragile attraction is easily shattered in that onslaught. Durable love isn't always pretty. Sometimes it's plain. It's a sink full of dirty dishes or a soiled sock. And while that love isn't indestructible, it takes an awful lot of neglect to break it.
I believe in love that is adaptable and spacious. So much so, that it is possible to grow and change within it without being impinged. It's not fitting like a glove - because in that there is no room for alteration. If you start out too closely fitted together, growth will undermine the fit. No. I believe in love that breathes.
I believe in love that is not fickle. I believe in the love that sticks around when your partner is grumpy or sick or difficult to get along with. I believe in the kind of love that remains even when one of you is being insensitive or selfish. This love has so little to do with what happens in your bed. It's about the person standing next to you. It's about the one who makes you laugh, who stimulates your mind. It's the one who sees you for who you really are - and what you could become. It's the love that looks beyond what you think are glaring flaws and sees what's beautiful in you.
I believe in this kind of love, and I'm willing to seek it out, to wait for it, to work for it. It's not for me to land with someone who excites me for a little while and then to move on to someone else I find exciting. I believe that there is such a thing as a perfectly imperfect love, and I stand by that belief.
So when the evangelist comes knocking on my door, I can say - definitively, "Thanks, but no thanks. That's not what I believe in."
(Actually, I will probably just not answer the door and hide until they go away, but you get my point.)
I will live by what I believe.
I crossed paths with someone a few weeks back who decided that he was going to convert me. Even after I said, "Thanks, but no thanks. That sounds like it works for you, but it doesn't work for me." He kept on! "Well, have you thought about XYZ? If you consider that, you may change your mind."
"No. I am sure I'm not going to change my mind. I'm not going to be convinced. I'm not interested. Thank you."
Getting this guy off my metaphorical front porch was a real chore. Yes, I suppose I could have just blocked the messages, but I something in me kind of snapped, and I launched into my own diatribe.
I told him: I believe in love, sir. At the risk of sounding trite and cheesy I believe in saving all my love and attention for one person.
So here I am, standing up for what I believe in:
I believe in love. Not in the fairy tale version - where a kiss from Prince Charming instantly transforms you. But in the kind where you find a person that reveals the best, most resilient, most noble parts of you, and you invest your heart in that person.
I believe in the love that inspires you to be the best version of yourself. I believe in the kind of love that supports your growth and inspires reflection. The kind of love comprised of a thousand little choices every day. The one that takes another's needs into consideration and leads you to make decisions that are good for you, but are not bad for your partner. I believe in unselfishness - not martyrdom - but unselfishness.
I believe in love that is durable - that grows and stretches. The kind that can take the bumps and bruises of everyday life - because life can be brutal. Fragile attraction is easily shattered in that onslaught. Durable love isn't always pretty. Sometimes it's plain. It's a sink full of dirty dishes or a soiled sock. And while that love isn't indestructible, it takes an awful lot of neglect to break it.
I believe in love that is adaptable and spacious. So much so, that it is possible to grow and change within it without being impinged. It's not fitting like a glove - because in that there is no room for alteration. If you start out too closely fitted together, growth will undermine the fit. No. I believe in love that breathes.
I believe in love that is not fickle. I believe in the love that sticks around when your partner is grumpy or sick or difficult to get along with. I believe in the kind of love that remains even when one of you is being insensitive or selfish. This love has so little to do with what happens in your bed. It's about the person standing next to you. It's about the one who makes you laugh, who stimulates your mind. It's the one who sees you for who you really are - and what you could become. It's the love that looks beyond what you think are glaring flaws and sees what's beautiful in you.
I believe in this kind of love, and I'm willing to seek it out, to wait for it, to work for it. It's not for me to land with someone who excites me for a little while and then to move on to someone else I find exciting. I believe that there is such a thing as a perfectly imperfect love, and I stand by that belief.
So when the evangelist comes knocking on my door, I can say - definitively, "Thanks, but no thanks. That's not what I believe in."
(Actually, I will probably just not answer the door and hide until they go away, but you get my point.)
I will live by what I believe.
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