The Double Standards Booty Call

I once dated one of my country’s shadow ministers. He might have been a touch too boring, but he taught me a lesson I apply to every single relationship: If a dude who’s helping run the fucking

country (!!!)

manages to find a decent amount of time to spend with me, sorry, guy, but you’re not too busy to find time for me. You just don’t want to see me all that much. The Politician and I lived an hour and a half’s drive from one another. Three times a week, he’d hop into his car and drive to me. Then he’d hop right back into it at the end of the night and make the great trek home. He’d fetch me for weekends, too.

He didn’t spend that time checking the news on his phone or chatting to his thousand Very Important Colleagues. He spent it being well and truly present. He made sure I knew I mattered, so when I finally got around to reading “He’s Just Not That Into You”, one of its chapters made good sense to me: If he’s not spending time with you, he’s just not that fucking into you. It’s that simple. (I’ll give you frequent fliers a get out of jail free card. I acknowledge that if you’re not in the same city as me, I’m not going to see you as much.)

I’ve had relationships with freelancers, white collar workers with high-profile, high-stress positions, and men who did very little beyond party. The two who had the most free time spent less time with me than any of the others. Want to know what they had in common? They had lots of excuses—the kind of excuses The Politician just never seemed to need.

I recently had to remind myself of what I wanted out of a relationship: to share my life with someone. I might be ugly and old, but I’ve not given up on building a life with someone. When I’m buzzing around the old age home on my pink floral scooter, I want to be doing so next to my loved one.

If, during the honeymoon phase of our romance, you’ve got five hours a week for me, do us both a favour and add them to your me-time because I don’t want them. I want a partner, not a casual fling.

There is very little that I find more devastating than a partner who treats you like an option and expects to be treated like a priority. That kind of relationship requires you to be constantly available and ready to clear time because five-hour-a-week guy doesn’t exactly put effort into trying to slot his once-a-week visit into your life in a way that’s convenient for you. Nuh-uh. It’s all about him, and if I’m being used as a booty call, I will joyfully objectify you in my own time and at my convenience.