Here’s something that took me a long time to realize: You should date someone who thinks you’re fucking amazing. Seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it? For some ridiculous reason, I didn’t used to think it was that important, which, in retrospect, is maddening. I have wasted the last few years dating dudes who considered me run-of-the-mill, optional and disposable. They wouldn’t text me back within 48 hours (or at all) and they wouldn’t propose hangouts nearly as much as I did (or at all) and they wouldn’t go down on me the same amount that I went down on them (OR AT ALL WTF STRAIGHT MEN CHECK YOUR ENTITLEMENT).

They would come to my shows and casually state afterwards, “I guess you were…funny,” and then talk about themselves exclusively for three hours straight and choose browsing the general internet on their phone over making eye contact with me. Then they would be perplexed by my adamant disinterest in seeing their genitals. “Do you have a boyfriend now or something?” they would inquire when I didn’t reply to their “Wanna hang out tonight?” message, which they sent at 2 am on a Tuesday after not speaking to me for three months. It must be that I have a boyfriend, why else would I not want to be treated like a roll of toilet paper they wipe their excrement with until that roll runs out and is replaced by another disinterested roll?

I assumed that this behaviour from my gentleman callers meant that I wasn’t… well, fucking amazing, in anybody’s eyes. I was okay enough to casually chill with once every six weeks and my mouth was sufficient for sporadic oral sex services and my ears could meet the requirements for absorbing sad ex-girlfriend stories but that was about all I was worth. And my wrongful acceptance of this as truth resulted in a gross tumultuous cycle of all giving and no taking. Now, I do admit responsibility for a few factors contributing to said cycle. The first factor being that I kept seeing these guys when I shouldn’t have and the second being that I genuinely convinced myself they were right in thinking I was dull as fuck. I was tossed aside so many times in a row that eventually I accepted my fate as an eternal “fine enough” specimen who was sort of entertaining to an extent, FOR NOW.

Then, a couple of nights ago, I was fondly remembering my very first serious relationship, which ended seven years ago. I could recall in detail meeting my ex-boyfriend at a New Year’s Eve party and us immediately falling for each other’s ridiculous jokes. I was replaying memories of our hangouts and our chats and our smooches. Then, after reminiscing for a while, I had a realization: “Wait a second…that dude thought I was fucking amazing!” Suddenly every compliment and every proud smile and every ounce of encouragement he had ever given me came rushing back. I mean, he initially asked me out because he thought I was hilarious and had a great handshake and real intriguing stuff to say. And during our relationship, he would always read my writing and come to my performances and inquire about my life A HECK OF A LOT.

The point I’m getting at here is that he never observed me as just another run-of-the-mill, optional, disposable homo sapien. He saw something in me beyond my physical form from the beginning and wanted to learn more and more about how the chemicals inside my brain functioned. He had a serious desire to listen to me talk at length about everything from feminism to art to how all of my clothes are stained with guacamole. He appreciated me like he would his best friend or his favourite coworker or his damn hero. When he discussed MY achievements, he did so in the same excited tone that he discussed his sister’s promotion. I wasn’t less than others in his mind. I was more. And I am so not used to this treatment today that remembering that is almost unsettling.

I mean, it’s not actually unsettling, but I’m reacting in this incredulous manner because I’m currently like an abandoned dog who isn’t being fed enough and is left outside too much and not pet in the “right” places. I am starving for appreciation and attention and unwavering confidence in my skills and I didn’t even know it. I can honestly say that I think the main difference between that solid relationship and my recent crappy relationships/pseudo-relationships/casual coitus-ships is that he truly believed that I was fucking amazing. Not just “sorta nice” or “pretty hot” or “kinda funny” or “relatively smart” or “somewhat interesting but only tolerable when 100% happy and very drunk and not questioning anything in the slightest.” Fucking AMAZING 24/7.

And when we did break-up, I never for a second felt like I was being discarded. He made it very clear how important I was to him. We respected each other weeks before penetration and years afterwards.

I can’t believe that I’ve drifted so far from this level of self-worth that I’m having sex with men who introduce me to their colleagues as, “Jess…she’s a…um…cool…girl.” I have been settling for self-involved jerk-butts who only think of me as a warm bodice that exists to meet THEIR emotional/physical/egotistical needs. No one wants to feel insignificant and you especially shouldn’t accept the “you’re dull as fuck” attitude from the person whose privates you touch regularly.

We need someone who is in awe of us daily and who we are in awe of. That’s key as well. We shouldn’t date individuals who we don’t idolize because we will likely treat them like garbage and take them for granted and be an overall asshole. I myself have been on dates with total babes and thought, “They’re real great but…someone else is going to think they’re fucking amazing, so I should probably not see them again,” ‘cause I knew deep down that I wouldn’t treat them the way they deserve to be treated.

Every person is a person, not an owner of parts that you think are satisfactory for the month of March. I know that we all make mistakes and feelings are injured without intention and casual sex can be highly tricky to navigate, but this is why you need to be super conscious about your romantic choices. If you foresee feelings being injured (including your own), stop, drop, and roll the hell out of that bed, baby. You can both do better.

You ARE fucking amazing and you deserve someone who truly believes that. And when they say it, you should go all Patrick Swayze in Ghost and be like, “Ditto,” and then walk directly into the light aka have sex with them a ton until you’re too tired to have sex anymore and then nap and then have more sex and repeat this sequence until one or both of you have to go to work. Ah, the dream.

In conclusion: Mutual fucking amazing-ness is the goal. Do not accept anything less because you are totally worth a person who loses their mind over you.