Member-only story
It’s Stupid to Be a Chameleon Dater
Why I did it anyway
In five hours, my ex-boyfriend will stop by, dropping off things that I left at his house. The snowboarding helmet he helped me pick out so I could go snowboarding with him. The gaiters that kept snow out of my socks when I accompanied him on his winter orienteering trips. The spare toiletries I left at his place because we spent our time together there.
The chameleon
When I was with him, I was very sure I wanted to snowboard and orienteer. Yet I’m not sure I’ll ever go snowboarding or orienteering again, post break-up.
Did I genuinely like those activities, or did I just use those activities to attract him?
By now, he’s probably wondering the same thing.
I guess that says it all. I’m not me when I’m dating. I’m a chameleon. I sense what men want me to be, and I become what they want. But at the time, I can’t tell that’s what’s happening. I don’t plot it. I’m not consciously faking it.
The fact that he is coming to my place for this one last chore is kind of symbolic. It will be one of the few times he’s come to my place…
