#133: Do I find my partner attractive enough?
#133: Do I find my partner attractive enough?
+ Are my doubts “normal”? Should I move home?
Good morning!
Welcome back to Dear Baby. Today I’ll be answering three questions about: 1) normal vs non-normal relationship doubts 2) the mythic move back in with your parents and whether it’s actually a good opportunity to reset and 3) battling inconsistent physical attraction in a relationship, in this case specifically related to fatphobia. Yes, I wrote a full essay for each one because, unlike Dear Abby, I’m fundamentally unable to be penetrating and brief. On the podcast this Tuesday, Danny and I will be answering questions about friendship ghosting (with questions from both a ghoster and a ghostee), whether it’s fair to impose germaphobia on a partner, how to sneakily tell your friend you don’t like who they’re dating, the physical attraction conundrum, and more. Dear Danny is back! Send in your written questions here, or leave a voicemail at 802-404-BABY.
One last thing before I start, please keep sending me photos from any meet-ups that are happening as a result of this newsletter!! They look so fun and are making me cry. I also wish I was there? Lol. I’m going to be in London from Feb 9-16 if anyone wants to invite me to anything! 😇
1. Normal doubts vs. problem doubts
“How do I know if a gut feeling about my relationship is a good instinct or self-sabotage (the feeling is that we may not be right for each other long-term)? I'm not sure how to make the decision and you don't often hear people openly admitting they doubted their relationship, unless they decided to end it.”
I fully get what you’re saying. There are a lot of contradictory ideas floating around about doubts, but the most detailed recountings tend to come from people who heeded them. That includes this essay I wrote six years ago, which kicked off all the writing I’ve done on this topic. Obviously it’s easier to talk about doubts that, in hindsight, held weight. But now that I have experience with two different five-plus year relationships—one that ended and another that hasn’t—I think I have a more well-rounded view on doubts than I’ve ever had. (Even compared to when I answered similar questions to yours the first, second, and third time.) Today I’m going to share just one framework I find useful for this, because I recently came to it myself.
The evergreen caveat here is that every person’s relationship with doubt is different. Some people wring their hands over innocuous conversations, others move across the country on a whim. Some are terrified of commitment, others of being alone. It would be absurd to assume doubts mean the same thing for everyone. But something I think most of us share is a fear of facing inconvenient truths, and a desire to rearrange the world to maximize our own comfort. This applies to people who run away from their problems and people who stay, ruminating and worrying until their neuroticism grants them the illusion of control. These aren’t always separate populations, either. I think most of us have the capacity for either brand of behavior, depending on the circumstances. So in my view, understanding our doubts starts with understanding our relationship with fear and discomfort, and how it manifests.
I’ve had doubts about every relationship I’ve ever been in, including the one I’m in now. But not all doubts are the same. I hate to bring up this quote again since it’s a tweet from a suspiciously online former monk, but I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now, and think it’s relevant here: “Desires that arise in agitation are more aligned with your ego. Desires that arise in stillness are more aligned with your soul.” I don’t know what he means by the soul, but I’ve been thinking of it as the gut. When I think back to the doubts that really haunted me—I’m specifically thinking of a lovely long-term relationship about which I experienced doubts like a terrible recurrent flu—they felt much more like a “desire that arrived in stillness.” Which isn’t to say I never felt the doubts in agitation (and of course, they caused agitation), but there was a loftiness to them that seemed to present its full spectrum only in quiet moments: in the shower, in the middle of the night, when I was away from him, alone. Looking back, those thoughts scared me not just because they invited the possibility of heartbreak, but because they felt, above all, lucid and true. When I would run from those feelings, back toward him, back toward the safety of continuing on, that desire, meanwhile, felt amped up, urgent, and terrified.
The doubts I experience now feel so unserious in comparison. First and foremost they’re rare, and they seem to come solely from a place of agitation: an antsiness for novelty, an escape hatch from a conflict that feels tricky to solve. But my mind seldom goes there, or they don’t exactly register as “doubts.” This may be due to age and experience as well, but my instinct now is to move toward the relationship—to fight for its best, most inviting version—rather than away from it, to something different altogether. I really struggled to develop that confidence in my former relationships. I found myself listing the reasons we were good together like a sales pitch. To that end, I think it’s also useful to think about relationship confidence, the emotional counterpart to doubt, and where it comes from. Does it feel grounded and still, or agitated and anxious? I’m putting a lot of faith in the idea that on some level, you know, because I think most of us do.
Like I said, confidence and doubt may present differently for everyone (maybe listing everything you love about a person doesn’t feel like a sales pitch at all!). I share the details of mine only to give examples of how I personally differentiate between agitated and quiet desire. I find the binary useful in this context. It offers a framework for parsing the urge to run—which can register as anything from run-of-the-mill fantasy (normal) to a core-shaking sign (not normal). I suggest you give yourself some time to observe, without judgment, when you feel doubt and when you feel confidence, and what catalyzes each feeling. It’s safe to say your fears mean something, just not necessarily what you want them to mean, or even what you don’t.
Above all, my advice with complicated emotions like this is to give them time to develop and clarify before you apply a narrative. I think that’s the real challenge ahead of you: Not to make an impossibly firm decision based on murky fears, but to observe them without judgment, or jumping to solutions, no matter how tempting. I know it sounds obvious to say, but you’re not going to come to a solid conclusion until you’re ready. Try to trust that day will come.
2. The mythic move “home”
“Dear Baby, I've been in a bad place for the better part of two years. Obviously the pandemic has taken its toll, but I haven't felt the same since I was diagnosed with Lyme disease in December 2020 (I know—everyone else was worried about covid and somehow I got something else). While my doctor caught it early and prescribed a course of antibiotics, I don't feel as if I've ever fully recovered mentally. There's a certain kind that can affect the brain, and I can't help but feel as if mine has been altered, despite assurances that I'm healed and side effects wear off after six months. I was never depressed before my diagnosis, but it's a constant now.
Whether it's this or burnout or the weight of the last three years now, I'm feeling ready for a big change—I feel like I know what I need to do, but I'm scared: I want to give up my apartment in Manhattan when my lease expires next spring, pack up all my shit, and move back to my parents' place in Florida to figure out what I want. I feel so weighed down by my life as it stands—work has caused me severe depression, and more than once I've had to stay home ‘sick’ multiple days in a row because I just couldn't face going. I thought it would be my dream job, but it's anything but. I don't like the path my career has taken, as I've gotten farther away from the creative side that I was originally drawn to. I'm hoping time away from the city will allow me time to breathe, to be bored, to rest in a way that I'm not able to here. Maybe get a part-time job doing something manual, so I’m not just staring at a screen. I've always wanted to give freelancing a try but am always too drained from my day job to even attempt pitching when I'm off. And while I have a solid group of friends, I'm painfully single and just want to be cared for.
I have a very small amount of savings, but it's not a nest egg, and I don't want to burden my parents financially. Despite that, I truly think it would be beneficial for me and I've been mulling it over for at least a year now, and I know I'm privileged enough to even have the option to do so. With my lease expiring soon, it just feels like the right time. Living in New York was a goal of mine for so long, and I don't want to feel like I ‘failed’ by moving away, and I dread telling my friends and extended family and answering questions about why I couldn't cut it. I've alway been someone who followed the prescribed path, who had a ‘bright future’ ahead of her, and I don't want to let anyone (including myself) down.
So my question is: Is it pathetic for a 28yo to quit her job, move home, and blow up her life just a little bit? To take what's essentially a gap year at this stage in life? Would love to hear your thoughts—thank you!”