I think it’s safe to say I have a little Bachelor withdrawal…even watching Prince Farming on Dancing with the Stars isn’t quite as enjoyable as watching the ladies on the Bachelor. So I figured maybe I could ease out of my withdrawal by writing about an aspect of the show that really left an impact on me this season.
One of the biggest story lines this season on the Bachelor was the past sexual activity—or inactivity—of the girls on the show. In an unprecedented move we had Jade who posed nude for playboy and Ashely I. and Becca who were virgins casted as contestants. While I am confident that in signing up for a reality TV show you also sign over the rights to your story (meaning that the producers can portray you and your story however they feel would make for the best TV), I think you would be hard pressed to find anyone who didn’t believe that the story of the playboy model and the virgin(s) were waaaaay overplayed.
Besides the fact that these are mere choices that these women have made with their lives, the story lines created for the show created almost a pseudo-identity for each of these women that focused on only one aspect of who they were versus the totality of their character, life experiences, values and passions. Jade will forever be known as the girl who posed for playboy. Ashely I. will always be known as the girl who was a virgin and claimed it wasn’t a big deal while simultaneously becoming overly emotional about telling people. Becca will be known as the virgin who accepted a date to the Fantasy Suite. And for that, I am sad. I don’t know these girls personally but I feel entirely confident saying there is way more to them than this minute detail of their life. But now they are judged upon one thing.
I think the reason this concept irritates me so much is because I have felt the same way in my own relationships.
As a kid growing up in a very rigid religious culture, I remember hearing people’s stories (or testimonies, as we called them) of being steeped in a sinful lifestyle (drugs, sex, rock n’ roll…ya know all the cliches) and how God had swooped them up and saved them and their lives were changed. In some ways I was envious of their stories because they sounded so powerful and moving. Many times I was genuinely bummed that I wouldn’t have a story so powerful—I didn’t believe that someone could hear my story and see any necessity to believe in God.
Fast forward a couple decades and life has changed significantly. Life has led me down some interesting paths and among other things I definitely have a story. And while I no longer believe that my story needs to necessarily be a “testimony” in someone else’s life, I do find that it can be quite powerful at times as I connect with others, empathize and encourage. I do have a deep understanding that my story is not me, my identity or the totality of who I am. But as I have entered into the world of relationships, I have found that other people believe the opposite to be true.
If you’ve read my blog for any length of time you know that there are some sensitive parts of my life that people could have strong opinions about. My own journey in healing has taught me to be ok with these things, understand the impact and how to move forward. So for me, I am ok with my story. And part of my journey has also taught me that people need to earn the right to hear my story—a couple dates doesn’t warrant a place in my life to know all my deepest, darkest secrets and so I am cautious regarding with whom, what and how much of my story I share.
It never ceases to amaze me though how quickly the tone in a relationship can shift by people knowing little bits and pieces of my story as they begin to use that information to make assumptions about all of me. More than once I have been accused of projecting my past relationships onto current relationships because I have identified something that I have been triggered by or a preference that I have (known to me based on the work that I have done) that morphs into the person viewing me through a specific lens. I have been told on numerous occasions even that because I don’t feel comfortable sharing my story that it’s an indicator that I am not over it and “still have work to do”. I have even been broken up with by a guy because he wanted “…just once to not date someone who had been in an unhealthy relationship…” (I can’t help but wonder if he’s still single).
Suddenly, regardless of the amount that I share with that person, a cloud of judgement covers me as the other person now sees me through the lens of how he thinks a person with my past should act. It happened on the Bachelor…Chris expressed significant concern to hear that Becca had never been in love, said I love you or had sex. He wondered if she would really be able to handle a relationship like that. On more than one occasion he seriously questioned his relationship with her based on these facts alone.
To be honest, I don’t carry shame and regret for the things that are in my past. Though I have had to process through a lot, I have much confidence that going through these things and healing from them are part of what makes me who I am. And I kinda like who I am! I wouldn’t trade the experiences I have had if it also meant I had to trade who I am now. But despite my confidence in myself and not carrying shame, guilt or non-acceptance for my story, I still find myself a bit fearful that other’s will not offer me the same grace. I do fear that someone would hear my story about being in an abusive relationship and handle it disrespectfully, with insincerity, projection or lacking in compassion; I worry that they will think I am too much to handle because of that one piece of my story instead of viewing me for all of who I am.
I understand the process of snap judgement—it used to be something I was really good at, and you would be hard pressed to get me to change my opinion. I made judgements about people based on their past, what they were wearing, the types of jokes they would laugh at, the movies they watched, their sexual choices, the places they would go on dates, how often they went to church. I would take one small detail of who they were and let it grow and expand into a blanket that covered them and was the lens I would see them through. It was a regular habit of mine and I have worked hard to bring awareness, understanding and change to that so that I might view people with acceptance, compassion, curiosity and common humanity. Perhaps it’s naive of me to think that because I strive to do this that others would do the same, but I remain hopeful that it could happen.
I remember early on in my healing process I shared with my therapist that the previous weekend I was supposed to go on a second date with a guy who, the night before, had gotten drunk and was hungover. When he asked me to drive an hour to spend the day with him at his house instead of coming to my town per our original plans I was very triggered (based off of many similar situations in my abusive relationship). I recognized this immediately and explained to him that I didn’t feel like it was a good idea and being with someone who was hungover (on a second date, mind you) was something that felt really uncomfortable to me. He laid into me—told me I was projecting other relationships on to him, that I had unresolved issues, that I wasn’t at a place in my life to have a relationship and then gave me the silent treatment the rest of the day. I was absolutely flabbergasted at what had happened! My therapist stopped me at this point in the story and said “wait a second, so he judged you without even knowing you?” “Yes, I suppose he did,” I quietly answered. She looked at me with compassion in her eyes and said “if he treated you like that based off of that situation, can you imagine how poorly it could have gone if you shared your story with him?”
She was right…he would not have been a good candidate to share those personal matters with; I abruptly ended the relationship. It became clear to me that day, and it’s something that I have to remind myself of over and over again, that if someone chooses to judge me based on one aspect of who I am—whether it’s my past, a value choice I make, a boundary or anything else—then he is clearly not worth my time. Yes, that’s way easier said than done; it can feel excruciatingly painful to have to end a relationship for those reasons, but I guess the way I see it is that the ending of that relationship gets me one step closer (or one guy closer) to finding a relationship with someone who not only accepts every part of me but embraces it and counts it an honor to be trusted with my story.
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