The Boyfriend Badge
A boyfriend, or any successful relationship, is the modern-day equivalent of the Library of Alexandria. Regarded as an unattainable treasure, the proof that there is more to life than our lonely paths, the answer to all the trials life bestows upon us. In society, successful relationships are worn like badges. We look at happy girls with envy, wondering how they managed to have it all so glamorously. A medal shining on the podium as if to say, “I did it. I achieved it all. It is not impossible. I am lovable.”
We believe that getting into a relationship will fix it: the uneasiness that follows us like a stray dog, eternally hopeful and wearing hunger disguised as loyalty.
I thought I had found an end to my wandering and aimless attempts at romantic happiness. My Library of Alexandria is in the body of a six-foot-tall boy. A tangible thing, this boyfriend, or a living embodiment of romantic manifestation. The hand holding mine was proof that the world had not been lying! Love existed, and it was wonderful and meant for me! It left me feeling robbed. Here was the promised land, and still, the world inside my head was no calmer or any more sensible.
It was lovely and sweet but only distracted me from all the things I had piled into the corner. Getting a boyfriend didn’t fix anything. It offered me a new window to look through when things got ugly, but I still had issues at my job, fights with friends and family, and an annoying commute to work. I had been promised an easy life when I found love.
The Library of Alexandria was a historical epicenter of knowledge, constructed in honor of Alexander the Great. It was believed to hold the answers to every question ever thought. Similarly, our ideas of love are chipped away until nothing is left but the crumbs of a dream. I constructed a relationship that mirrored the images imposed on me. I polished each stone and brought people from far and wide to see the wonders of love, to partake in the secrets of a perfect life.
I had love, and the world didn’t blink twice. There were soft touches, open stares of longing, and sweet nothings whispered into my hairline, yet that same damn dog trailed behind my every step.
Like most things, my relationship with that boy ended. There was no grandiose fight to culminate it all—just a string of slights stitched together and hung in the foyer, visible on entry if you cared enough to look. Most people will tell you the Library of Alexandria was burned down. The truth is, there was no singular act of aggression that took the library. Rather, a string of small pains over the course of many years. Slow disregard is a far worse end than an act of violent finality.
Relationships are not futile, despite my admittedly negative outlook. I don’t despise relationships; I am a hopeless romantic at heart, which only serves to heighten all my feelings around this topic. I am frustrated with the way we revere relationships. Holding one person to such a high level of expectation will only ever end in one way.
Maybe I’m just jaded after the many “interesting” dating experiences of my twenties—and the promise of many more to come. Social media projects an image of beautiful love and easy-going lives as if to tell us that once we figure out our love life, everything else will fall into place. If we can be good at love we are good at being alive. Having worked in social media management, I can confirm that the overwhelming majority of relationship content is staged or doctored. I helped plan and make these forms of content and I still fall prey to the longing trap.
A girl I worked with wore her engagement ring six months before she officially posted about the proposal because she wanted everyone to believe she had a fall engagement. Her fiancé had proposed in June. She let the image, the dream, of the perfect relationship take priority. We have all likely heard the statistic about 50% of marriages ending in divorce. And why wouldn’t they? We’re all burning for an idea that doesn’t even exist.
Photo by Leah Newhouse
It won’t matter how good or healthy the relationship is. It will never compare to this grandiose dream we’ve collectively built. The Library of Alexandria won’t reveal all the secrets of the world, but we pretend it could.
Having a perfect thing to hope for or work toward enhances daily mundane life. A relationship won’t make living any easier. But we want it to.
I have this friend with one of the healthiest relationships I have ever seen. I used to think that everything in her life had to be good because her relationship was so well put together. I regarded her relationship as a reflection of the quality of her life. And I theorized and bullied myself when mine didn’t look like that. My life was still a mess, and I still felt insecure despite being in a perfectly healthy relationship. I wondered what I had done wrong. How had I messed it up? What step had I missed?
Recently she told me about a fight they’d had and I was struck by the idea of them fighting at all. Her relationship wasn’t perfect, and neither was her life. And when she realized that nothing would ever be perfect, she allowed her relationship to make life good. It didn’t have to heal everything within her. She didn’t have to understand everything within him. They just made life good for each other.
Dreams and goals for romantic relationships are important, but let’s not give ourselves ulcers for a reality that does not and—might not have ever—existed. Romance and love are real, but they won’t solve all the puzzles for a joyful life. They definitely won’t make your twenties any simpler. The Library of Alexandria was real, but it didn’t have the cure for cancer on its shelves.
The relationships that have proven to be rich and beautiful and eternally loving are my friendships. I can’t help but wonder if friendships come easier because we don’t put the same pressure on them. There’s never just one person. There are many people for many moments of this long life. I still have hope for a person to love and be loved by, but my life amounts to so much even without that presence.
