I felt ashamed that no one wants to date me.  I made an advert on Lex and felt sad when no one responded, other than spammers.  Why the shame, I’m not sure.

Rejection is embarrassing–I do have playground trauma, being perpetually chosen last for the baseball team.  Or old old danger from thousands of years ago: fear of abandonment by my social group for being a shitty hunter or gatherer.  I’m disabled.  In a way, I am a shitty hunter and gatherer.  But I can do other things.

My shame is a woundedness.  A hurting wound is touched when there’s a question of my desirability.  Desirability is my tenderest pain place.

It hurts that I tried and failed.  The stakes are high because my sense of self-worth is tied in.


Last month there was a campfire in our backyard for a community dinner.  A few friends arrived, and I talked for a while with my ex’s husband, who I’m trying to be friends with.  I felt special when he pulled the stump close to me.  Our hugs were good.

Then a cadre of young people showed up, all dressed in black.  No one said hello to me.  It was like the celebrities arrived.

They also reminded me of a swarm of termites, ready to eat all the food.  I’m happy to feed them.  But I would prefer basic politeness as part of respect.  Respect that this is my backyard, I cooked some foods they’re eating, or just that I’m a human.

what love is

My spouse afterward told me he was also peeved by the lack of hello.

“We’re going to house them–the least they can say is hello,” my spouse said.

Two of the all-black-wearing young people were about to come stay with us, needing a safe place to park their van and use the bathroom.

“Love isn’t like that,” I said.  “Love isn’t tit for tat.  But I hear you–we’re going to sacrifice quiet and comfort for them.  You’d think there would be some care.”

“Maybe they are like family,” my spouse theorized.  “So close we can skip the formalities.”

But it’s hard for me to understand.  If they’re acting like I don’t even exist, maybe they don’t care that I exist.


Lately I notice that my lack of trust can create problems for me and my little family.  Maybe I should just trust that the young people like me, and they’re my friends however they’re my friends.  Fretting about it isn’t going to change anything.

It would be great to learn to trust, socially.  It’s something I want to practice.  So what if they don’t like me?  They like me, or they don’t.  If they say hi or not, what does it matter?

Today the young people went to get a Christmas tree.  I was hurt not to be invited.  It bothered me like a splinter.  I try to include, invite, and welcome my community members to activities.  Feels like basic love.

But I would prefer to be happy the young people like each other, and ok if they don’t like me.  Individuals like me, but the group seems to find me irrelevant.


There are a lot of reasons no one might want to date me.  My personal ad might be too plain.  Do I seem wise, and the players know they can’t play me?  Maybe my confidence is intimidating.  Maybe there are just very few locals of my age range on Lex.

As for people who come closer, they see I have an amazing spouse.  Maybe they can tell my spouse is so much more skilled and beautiful than them, it feels pointless to date me.

I’m direct about who I am and what I want, have no problem talking about sex in detail, need consent, and notice everything.  Maybe that’s it.  I’m not an easy mark.  That’s nothing to be ashamed about.

fat and disabled

My go-to is that someone doesn’t want to date me because I’m fat or disabled.  But there are so many other possible reasons.

Fat is good, and disabled is fine.  Being brilliant and having standards is not wrong.  We could call it “not a good fit,” but that seems to miss a whole dimension.  More like most people want to be unaccountable and not communicate much, and I don’t do that.  I’m going to have integrity no matter what.

I don’t need to be ashamed because it’s not a failure on my part, that no one wants to date me.  It’s a gleaming success on my part, to know who I am and feel solid with my spouse.

I’m definitely not ashamed of my fat or disabilities.  Anyone who dates me needs to be ok with my deep self-love and with the family I already have.

As for the young people, they are dating each other in various configurations.  They’re figuring shit out.  I’m glad not to be part of that mess, though I would like more hugs.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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