r

Throughout the first half of the pandemic, I was single. And added to that, I was very much looking for love. When I think back to that time, I’m struck by how disappointing most of my experiences with men were. Not only that, most of them ended with some kind of rejection. All this led me to consider the very nature of rejection and how it may be time to rethink the way we see it.

At the end of the first summer, I dated a guy for around 6 weeks. Our first weeks together were really enjoyable and I probably had one of my best first dates ever with him. As the date drew to a close, I remember feeling an exciting discomfort brewing. I wasn’t sure if we were going to kiss or not. Until I made the move and kissed him. Afterwards, I felt so proud of myself, as usually I’m the one who holds back and regrets not acting later. My lasting memory of him, though, is a bit different.

In the weeks after the first date, I soon realised there was a problem. He would often take around seven hours to reply to a text. Not only did this cause me a great deal of anxiety between replies, but it also became increasingly difficult for me to not interpret his response time as a sign he was either losing interest or had already lost it. When I brought this up to him, his response was something along the lines of: I’m not the kind of person who replies instantly or I’m just not someone who’s always on their phone. I didn’t take the discussion much further.

Although I understood his position, how else was I supposed to gauge his level of interest besides how readily he replied and how often he wanted to meet up? What else do we have to go off when we first meet someone? And, when we factor in the virtual realm – being able to see likes, stories, even read receipts – isn’t it safe to say rejection nowadays has taken on even more forms?

In hindsight, I’ve come to understand that forging a new relationship isn’t just about catching feelings. It also encompasses working together to set a range of terms that both of you are happy with. With seven-hour reply guy, I knew I wasn’t going to be happy with such infrequent communication. But I continued things in the hope of reliving those first few moments together and that things would change. By the time it became clear that they wouldn’t, he’d ended it. I’d been chasing a previous rush of wonder and excitement that was never going to come back. And that form of rejection hits just a bit different.

The experience, however, made me realise I needed a more present partner in order to feel safe and wanted; and that meant replying to messages promptly and making an effort to see me as much as possible. Those are some of my terms, along with everything else I bring to the table. Seeing the beginnings of a relationship in this way has helped me reframe rejection into something softer, like incompatibility, for instance; a phrase that is kinder, less one-sided and less destructive for both people involved. And, given that our society is more divided, hurt and lonelier than ever, why shouldn’t we centre care and compassion, especially when it comes to matters as delicate as those of the heart?