Making Peace with the "N" Word

I was supposed to have a date tonight with a guy from an online dating site.  He had all of the trimmings a girl looks for:  engineer, home owner, handsome face, grown children. And he pursued me quite feverishly.  Sent me email after email, called, texted.  You know, made it known that he was really interested in getting to know me.

So, last night we set up our plan to meet for an after-work drink at a nearby sportsbar.

Easy enough.

Except that, about twenty minutes after hanging up, he sent a text message asking for more photos of me.  As if the pictures on my profile page presented some false me and he was worried that I would be ugly.

Trust me.  I get where he's coming from.  If I had a dollar for every time I went on an online date where I analyzed a man's face, trying to recognize even a hint of the man from the photos, I'd have enough money to buy myself a couple of nice bottles of wine.

This text asking me for more pictures threw me off-guard.  And gave me the heebie jeebies.  And so I texted him saying just that--that I was uncomfortable sending them, that the photos on my page were all taken within the past six months, and that he would see the "real thing" tomorrow.  A healthy, balanced response, in my eyes.

About ten minutes later, I got a response asking again for pictures.  No acknowledgment of my polite no.

Even more perturbed at this point, I put on my big girl pants and texted him a firm:  No.  I am not comfortable with that.

Do you know what the guy did?  He cancelled our date.  Just because I wouldn't send him additional photos.  Just in case I was ugly (And, just for the record, I am with you ladies who are shouting Amen and Hallelujah from your couches right now, because I sighed a big good riddance to myself, too.).

Okay, so this is just one story about my run-in with one online-dating chump.  And in the realm of online dating horror stories, this one ranks pretty far down on the list.  I realize that.

But there's a jewel in it.

A little grain of sand that has been molded into a pearl by my growing self-esteem.

I said NO.

For those of you who are people-pleasing-addicts like me, you know how hard it is to say the "N" word.  It brings a fear that those to whom we say NO will never again reach out to us, ask us for anything, or befriend us any further.

As author Brene Brown says in her book, Daring Greatly, we women are expected to do it all and make it look effortless.  And, although I realize this pressure is compounded for women who have children, this pressure is also difficult on us single ladies. We have pressure to do it all. Succeed at our jobs. Pay our mortgages and all of our bills. Be a supportive friend to everyone.  Keep our bodies in shape and our hair colored.  Make being single look like a ticket to freedom. And for those of us who have a disability, especially for those of us who are recovering perfectionists, this task is even harder.  In addition to doing all of the aforementioned tasks, we have to defy the odds stacked against us.  Or at least try to defy them...without so much as a grimace or a drop of sweat.

So, for all of these reasons and so many more, I have lived a life where I could not say no.  I have piled commitments onto my overflowing plate, and, instead of recognizing that the plate had reached max capacity, I have chided myself for not being strong enough and pretended that that plate was really a platter.  In the past, I found great pride in listing off all of my accomplishments.  All of the "things" I was doing.  As if it were they that gave me worth.

Over the past few months, I have learned to say the magic word.  As you can see, I'm still working on the confidence in the no, but I've come a long way.  I have whittled away at the tasks at-hand (even the fun ones) so that I can have a little more me time.  A few more candles-lit-and-me-on-the-couch nights.

Last night marked a milestone in my growth.  There was a time when I would have given in to pressure like this, especially from a man because I would have been afraid I would lose his attention.

In this present moment, though, I realize that my own comfort is most important.  That saying no protects that delicate core of who I am.  Who we all are.  It allows us to strip away distraction and settle in to the moment and just be good enough.  For who we are, not for what we do.