To All The Boys Who Came Before (pt1)...

My experience with romantic relationships is limited, in the sense that my sample size is extremely small and for some strange reason, I found myself gravitating towards a certain type of dude (read Xhosa)- and ultimately found myself licking my wounds after each venture. Consequently, I have chosen the single life (or perhaps I haven’t been asked out on a date) for about 7 years. I know, I know, how? Why? Who hurt me? Have no fear, this is not a page out of "A Diary of a Mad Zulu Girl", I just thought there might be some value in framing my context. 

(Paper) Thin Love

Romantic Love has always been incredibly idealistic to me, as this once-in-a-lifetime utopic experience that conquers everything and ultimately wins. Seeing as I never got see to romantic love first-hand as a child, Disney and the Back Street Boys were my only reference points for what this magical journey to finding Prince Charming ought to look like. In reality, it was more like something from SZA’s CTRL album.

So, it's no surprise that I found myself (unawares) chasing boys who seemed to inevitably need something from me. My energy, my innocence, my patience, my forgiveness, my connections, my happiness, my body, my everything. Little did I know that boys don’t quiet tire of taking, once you hand over one part of yourself, it is assumed that the rest is also up for grabs. This might not have been an issue was there mutual enrichment, but I often found that it was just me divesting my independence, identity, and power to appease, compliment, and make said nigga comfortable. 

After the end of what can only be described as a messy and tumultuous adolescent relationship, 21-year-old Whitney was not only unknowingly depleted but entirely confused. I figured I’d put myself out there and see if I could still find the right fit. I didn’t really want to be any one’s girlfriend again but I also didn’t want to be someone’s nothing. And so went the so-called 'dating game'. I went on a few dinners and drink dates, hung out with a few aint-shyeet-niggas, and widened my net from Xhosa mess to white, coloured, younger, older, famous and obscure mess. But no matter how different from each other these potential suitors were, they were all so much alike in their selfishness and misplaced regard for my personhood. I was either an embellishment or distraction or achievement and who I actually was didn’t truly matter, as long as I was what they liked and needed at that specific time.

After all the games, I was still left wanting. I had shape-shifted into multiple variations of myself and eventually wore out all feasible permutations. Even though I had convinced myself I wasn’t looking for serious companionship, the rejection and betrayal always had diminishing effects on me. I mean, finding out about girlfriends or fiances was gut-wrenching never-mind humiliating, also having girls I didn’t know hate me, for no reason, was so exhausting.

I deserve more. I want more

I do not want to paint all my experiences with the same brush- there were definitely moments when the boys I spent time with treated me with great care, affection and respect. However, it was never consistent and never felt intentional. I didn't want companionship based on obligation or indecision, I wanted it to be intended and cultivated.

The reality was that I was increasingly wasting my time. The sanest thing for me to do was to bow out as gracefully as possible. My exit from the dating game initially stemmed from a place of offense and very quickly progressed into anger and resentment. Over time, my singleness became an issue of safety and self-preservation. I was tired of being "loved" sporadically and in ways I didn't necessarily want or need. I was tired of walking on egg-shells during the dreaded DTR conversations and I was tired of feeling inadequate or lacking. I already had plenty of personal issues to work through and dealing with guys who didn't know what they were looking for (or wanted to carry a diverse portfolio of love interests) was not something I had any interest in. 

It all really boiled down to me realizing that I deserved more. I wanted to be pursued because I was seen as both captivating and valuable, and subsequently treasured because I am wanted, appreciated, and needed- loved because that is what my presence and friendship evoke. 

I was and am done being pursued for comfort, entertainment or challenge. I am done being pursued solely for consumption. I wont lie and say it is not good to be found attractive or intriguing, but I have come to learn that I have more to offer than momentary wonder, and deserve more than temporary affections. I just am not the one and don’t want any part in it. To All the Boys Who Came Before, I forgive you and I sincerely hope you doing better.