Worthiness, Shame, and the Booty-Call

"Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness," - Brene Brown. So why do I feel weak when I tell the truth and I act courageously? I think I am reacting to the reactions I get, which are not generally positive thus far. 

I am struggling with loneliness, shame, and my worth. I have had an emotional set-back that I wasn't anticipating. More specifically, I don't think I was ready for the reality of internet dating. I am not reacting well to the rejection and impersonalization of it, and I have realized that I am only attracting men who are looking for a booty-call. And I don't want to be that to anyone. I am so much more than that, why can't these men see that? Why can't anyone see me? I am practising my new "wholehearted living" as taught by Brene Brown, and I can't say it is going particularly well for me in the early weeks. Perhaps it is saving me from making mistakes with men I may have made in younger years, and protecting my heart and sexual health from surprises months down the road, but it is a lonely existence right now. 

What is wrong with me? Isn't that what we ask ourselves when we feel shamed and unworthy? What is so different and unappealing about me that I don't deserve someone in my life to care about me in that special way? It is so hard to tell myself continuously that I am worthy, to hold steady and be true to myself, and have faith that the right man will come along, when all the evidence points to the contrary. It is very difficult for me, when I think about what happened between my ex and I, to tell myself that I am worthy of love. He had me in his life, married me, told me he would love me forever, and then found someone he would rather be with. People tell me, and I try to tell myself, that his deception was about him, not me. I heard that very sentiment again today. That is a lie people tell me out of compassion. Of course it was about me. Stacked up against her, he found her to be more worthy of his time and attention. And I feel ashamed of being the discarded one, the unchosen, the unloved, the unworthy. I fight the feeling of shame, but it lurks always in my mind waiting for me to feel low and vulnerable and then it comes out to play and torture me. 

I miss my family. I want to be in a relationship where I can connect again. I want to be seen and accepted. I want the inclusiveness of belonging to a family unit, with all the messiness, hardships, and joy that brings. I want to snuggle on the sofa and watch TV after dinner, take the dog for a walk and hold hands with someone, or talk about my day and bounce ideas off someone. I want to be in a kitchen clearing the dishes and hear about someone else's day. I want to support someone in their journey, with their challenges. I want someone to want me in their life. I want to be respected and desired. I want, in short, to replace what I have lost. And that is proving to be no easy task for me. Yet my ex replaced me so easily. So what is the problem with me? I know in reality that the level of inclusiveness and comfort I seek is way down the road, but it needs to start with a serious date, not just a booty-call.

And really guys, on the very slight off-chance there are any guys reading this, why do you want a booty-call? I have made the call myself, and known I was the booty-call, but that was back in my twenties. I learned long before I was married that sex with intimacy and friendship is a million times better than a booty-call. Having sex, and then being able to talk and giggle, or share a midnight snack in bed, is so much better than getting dressed and going home, or kicking him out and then sleeping alone. I fail to understand why someone my age would even want a booty-call? Surely by this age most of us have been blessed to have the touch of someone who cares about us beyond the urge to mate? We were all created with the ability to touch our own genitals, so isn't masturbation a legitimate alternative to dragging someone else into your life to fulfill your hormonal urges? Furthermore, I can't speak for all women, but I ran my two cents by a friend and she agreed with me: If we have casual sex with you, it means we don't really care that much for you. We don't respect you, we aren't interested in your life, and we don't see a future with you. If a woman, meaning me, is actually interested in a man, I will wait. Not because I don't want to have sex, but because I want to have lots of sex over a long period of time, and have a good memory of our first time to think back on, rather than simply a lustful and less than graceful first encounter. And perhaps it is exactly the same with men; if they want a relationship and see a future, they won't be asking for a booty-call. So, a few days ago, I added this to the beginning of my Match.com bio: "Hey guys, if you're just looking for a booty call, move on. Wasted my first two dates on someone that had no interest in me as a person. Don't waste your time, or mine. Thanks." Since then I have received no new emails. 

Once again my female friends are coming to the rescue. This morning I woke up to the sweetest email from an unlikely source who had picked up on my mood last night. She wrote:  "I can't help but think of you being lonely. It sucks I know, been there done that… But way WAAAAY after everything was fine. Easy to look back and say you survived … I know. Anyway, … I will tell you this, you are pretty awesome. You are fun, pretty stinking funny, and have so many friends that have known you for years. You are so lucky......not to mention very confident and beautiful. Right, not the size two anorexic supermodel, but you are a looker!" And another friend wrote on my Facebook page: "Rebecca, remember you are a strong remarkable woman, the only person who needs to accept you that matters is you." I wish I could choose my sexuality; right now I am not pleased that I am heterosexual. I would like to choose to be a lesbian. Women are just so much more in-tune with each other and supportive of each other emotionally. 

I read a few interviews yesterday in Brene Browns Daring Interview Series on her blog which you can find at http://brenebrown.com/my-blog/. The three interviews I read were all women, two authors and one artist, and all were married. And all credited their husbands somewhere in their interview with contributing to something special in their lives. As is, and as does, Brene Brown. Is it possible to be vulnerable and authentic while single? Can you even get to the point of a deep and meaningful intimate relationship with someone if you are honest with them in the early stages of friendship or courtship about your ugliness? Isn't that where our shame resides, in the ugliest, muckiest and deepest reaches of our memories? And doesn't claiming your worthiness and combating shame mean taking our ugliness out of the dark shadows, holding it up to the suns warmth, really assessing it, and learning to comfort it and love it? According to Brene Brown, and I will likely misquote her here, shame is "I am wrong". And I feel like I am wrong inside when I objectively look at how the last couple of men have treated me. It is very difficult for me to tell myself I am okay, I am loveable just the way I am, I am enough, and all those other positive affirmations, when I seem to be alone in this thinking, barring my friends and son of course.

I am so much more than my vagina and my ability to make someone feel good sexually. I am complicated and fun, silly and serious, inquisitive and frightened, playful and aloof, intelligent and immature, compassionate and bitchy, empathetic and self-centred, consuming and philanthropic, materialistic and hippy'ish, sexual and childlike, giving and demanding, independent and needy, loving and difficult, a mother and a sexual being, and a great friend and lover. I am a wondrous and gorgeous creature with great cracks and depths like every other woman. I am so much more than a booty-call.