There was a guy I went on a couple of dates with last summer. Five minutes after the first (SPOILER ALERT: and last) time we slept together, he grabbed his cell and started flipping through it, showing me the girls who were messaging him on various dating sites. It kind of hurt my feelings, not because I was trying to spin a mystical fantasy world where he would only have eyes for me, but because it just seemed super inconsiderate for him to be on his cell phone ignoring me to browse for his next date. I said something along the lines of “Uh, should I go? I feel weird.” He got visibly exasperated, and said “God, you’re non-monogamous. I thought you’d be cool.”
All I am able to do is admit to everyone that I am scared. I’m scared that my self-preservation became self-desctruction, and that in my flailing determination to look after myself when I was left at sea, I doubled down on some of my worst qualities. And I’m scared that the very nature of these qualities is what makes them hardest to process in public.