I hate when men are right.
Spring of 2025, a guy broke up with me and mentioned that he felt like I gave him too much grace. I was really offended by that; I’m a graceful bitch, that’s who I am, and how I treat people has nothing to do with you. I wrote a big, long, now archived blog post about how he was wrong and dumb, and I am right, and my graceful, engaged, lover girl personality isn’t something to stifle or be ashamed of.
Over a year later I think I understand what he meant. I think I have been too kind, too patient, and too hopeful with the men I have dated. At least three of these men I’ve dated in the past year and a half have enjoyed a kind of engagement, support, affection, and space in my life that they absolutely weren’t reciprocating to me – something I only really noticed once we separated and I took stock of how I showed up with each of them.
I still don’t want to be less of who I am in my next relationship or the one after that or however many more rounds it takes to either be done and commit to marrying my career or find my actual husband. I’d hate for someone new to get to enjoy less of me because I’m scared of how I’ve been burned in the past.
But I do think I could stand to learn better discernment and to pay closer attention to how much grace and attention I give compared to how much I get.
Thanks Russell, I guess. I still hate that you’re right.
