What’s the antidote to shame? I spend a lot of time on it in my book where I’ll tell you in a more entertaining detail how I’ve arrived at it but in short, it was via connection – or connecting. With another human being, specifically, and not with a man (although I have a wonderful best friend who’s a male) (but it’s complicated because he’s also an ex).
I have a sister on the other side of the Ocean whom I’m in a constant conversation with and it’s one of those things where it just happened organically and it continued and never stopped. Ania is actually not my sister by blood, we met through an ex-boyfriend, more than 10 years ago. She dated him as an adult, I was his first love and the friendship grew over the years – at one point the three of us even went on vacation together – but we began talking daily more than a year ago. And now it’s a habit. Speaking of habits, an interesting coincidence is that I have been continuously sober for a year as of today. I don’t want to derail from the subject of this post, but developing this sort of a connection is what has been instrumental in my sobriety – it’s no secret that all recovery programs are based on people being able to relate to one another, and being able to be honest with at least one person. That can be an AA sponsor, a counselor, another sober friend, your partner… I do believe now, after almost 20 years in recovery that it doesn’t matter who it is but in order to stay sober you need somebody in your life to be able to be absolutely honest with. Someone to really see you.
I was thinking of my friendship with Ania but specifically how differently it could’ve gone because of how we’ve met – through a guy. I was thinking about it after watching the last episode of The Bachelor, a show that’s in its 28th season and that I watched for research (but also because I absolutely adore trash television and have zero shame about it). I’ve only watched the show once before, also for research (I wrote a short story based on two characters in it that was published in an anthology) and I hated it. I hated how crazy-making the whole situation was, 20+ women vying for the attention of one white American male with an IQ of a lawn mower, and everyone speaking in that weird way they all do on reality tv shows where it’s all “I don’t know what the future holds,” I’ve never felt like this about anyone before” or “I can honestly say I see my wife in this room.”1
Anyway, apparently this year something unusual happened – that has never happened before in the history of The Bachelor as the host assured us – and the two last candidates became close friends and accompanied each other to the final rose ceremony where a tennis pro named Joey-Blowey was going to pick his future wife. One of them was sure she was going to be sent home and right before the final part – where Blowey asks the girl to marry him – she showed up at the other girl’s hotel room and they had a heart-to-heart and went together. I’m guessing they go in separate cars but here we had two women holding hands, going into their final battle as friends rather than rivals. The audience was all hands-to-mouth shocked. I was hoping the thing that has never happened before in the history of The Bachelor was the two girls running away together (which was the premise of my short story, ha ha), ditching Blowey, but this was cool too.
I cannot imagine how humiliating it must be to have cameras recording your rejection but the girl who guessed she was probably going to be sent home, went in (in her see-what-you’re-missing red dress) and before Blowey had a chance to break up with her, she told him she was onto him and took some control of the situation. She didn’t cry. They hugged and she walked away with her head held high. (The other girl unfortunately accepted the rose and turned back into a robot squeaking about the future she couldn't wait for and waving her diamonded hand, next to the beaming Blowey who spent the past few months working as an emergency therapist with a constant hard-on.) I kept thinking how it was the Red Dress’s decision to go and connect with her rival that made the on-camera rejection easier; how it was her taking the power back that ended up being worth so much more than having to smell Blowey’s farts for the rest of her natural life.
A couple of days ago, I read an expose on Andrew Huberman in the New York Magazine, “the world’s biggest pop neuroscientist” who is apparently not a very nice boyfriend. I didn’t know about this guy until I read the story, but he’s apparently responsible for my visit to Othership back in December where my friend paid money so that we could plunge into an ice bath for two minutes. Huberman is of those wildly popular wellness gurus who thankfully bases a lot of his popular philosophies on scientific research, and who is a Stanford U professor, and who is charming and attractive and eligible. In other words, he’s a real catch, unlike Blowey who could only play tennis. But it turns out Huberman took advantage of his eligible status in the opposite way of Blowey because he also dated multiple women but he wasn’t open about it. In other words, he cheated. He had a main girlfriend, and at least four or five other side girlfriends and for a long time he managed to engage in an impressive strategic operation, that at one point saw him triple-date in one day (stepping out for a coffee from one woman’s house to meet another one for a relationship talk, and texting the third one while he waited and stuff like that).
The woman he lived with eventually caught on and connected with one of his lovers, and then it spiralled from there. What’s remarkable about this story is that instead of turning on one another, the women banded and formed a support circle, a WhatsApp group chat where they talk and process and, most importantly, joke about the situation (“They regularly use Andrew’s usual response to explicit photos — “Mmmmm” —to comment on pictures of one another’s pets.”). The article talks about how the women built real friendships and how they keep their group open in case there are any others that might reveal themselves as Huberman’s victims – except “victims” is a wrong word here; I see what happened as empowering and, honestly, surviving a guy like that makes them victors. Instead of feeling the usual and unfair shame that accompanies being cheated on, they turned it on its head and connected over their common ailment (a.k.a. Humberman). As for the article, I think it has buried its lead and if I were to write it, I’d make it a profile of five women who met in an unconventional way and who support each other through a difficult time; the unconventional way in which they met would be a paragraph.
If I don’t get the date card this week I’m going to be really upset.
I think we are really starting to have a connection.
I can see him being my future husband.
I don’t think there is any reason for me not to get a rose tonight.
She really opened up to me tonight.
This is so much harder than I thought.
I don’t know why I’m here.
Maybe I should just go home.
Hopefully I’ll walk out with my wife at the end of this.
I don’t know if this was worth it.
If she doesn’t open up to me tonight, I don’t know if our relationship can go on.
I’m going to have to make some really hard decisions.
I can honestly say I see my wife in this room.
I don’t know if there is a connection there.
I just don’t know what to do.
I just don’t understand what happened between us.
I’ve been hurt in the past.
I just thought I had found something real.
She’s just not here for the right reasons.
I have a really hard time opening up to people.
Can I talk to you for a second?
I just want to get to know you.
The date cards are here!
I thought I could do this, but I just can’t.
I don’t understand what happened.
I really thought he was the one.
I don’t understand where we went wrong.
I just don’t think she is the right one for me.
I never thought I would feel this way.
Ladies, there is one more rose left.
Will you accept this rose?