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Dear Dategirl,
How the fuck do you get people to date you and find you sexually attractive when you ARE broken physically? I don’t mean infertility—I mean physical deformity, scarring, etc. Rejection after rejection eventually wears you down and you stop trying. I also face rejection and stares from others, and people not wanting to be my friend, no matter how smart, educated, or witty I am.
This is a very real issue for some of us, so please don’t drop platitudes. And no, I don’t want to date someone with handicapped issues—I am not co-dependent and won’t spend my life caring for someone else. I raised two children as a single mother, and it nearly killed me. I want someone to care about me for a change and not just take my money and abuse me physically and emotionally. The only kind of people who look at some of us are users, losers, and abusers—for the reasons I just mentioned.
—Angry & Alone
I’ve been convinced I’d die alone many times—most notably when I was 19, trying to escape the sociopathic boyfriend who’d been beating me up and raping me the two years prior. Between his abuse and having spent the first 17 years of my life getting the crap beat out of me at home, I was utterly convinced I was unlovable.
After one catastrophically violent incident, I realized I could stay with him and most likely be dead within the year, or I could escape and be alone for the rest of my life. I realized that there were worse things than being lonely. I left.
Then came therapy. Lots of it. Things improved.
Since then I’ve had relationships, but have spent a good portion of my dating life being rejected and dealing with the accompanying humiliation. It’s difficult to avoid turning into an angry person when it seems like everyone else is coupled up and fantastically happy and you’re home with a vibrator and Mabel the cat.
Nobody is going to argue that life isn’t a whole lot easier for the fantastically good looking. We all know gorgeous morons whose success is due solely to their genetic lucky streak. The rest of us have to work with what we’ve got. Which in some cases isn’t a lot.
Whatever your scars or infirmities might be, what impressed me most about your note was the sheer amount of rage per sentence. Anger, bitterness, and depression do more to push people away than any excess poundage, ugly scars, or missing limbs. Ironic that after railing about the unfairness of it all, you’re completely dismissive about considering anyone with their own shortcomings. No wonder nobody wants to be around you. Quit it with the pity party—that’s uglier than a facial goiter—and stop broadcasting your hatred for humanity because it’s a real people-repellent.
You need to get yourself to a therapist, stat. And not one of those enabler types who just says “hmm” a lot. You need one who’ll help you realize it’s OK to be alone. But mostly you need someone who’ll help you pull your head out of your own ass.
How’s that for a platitude?
This question was submitted in response to Dategirl’s July 28 column, “It Ain’t Broke.”
