You Are What You Attract?

The idea that you are what you attract is pretty standard spiritual fare. Perhaps “you are what you attract” is not the most accurate way of saying it, but the idea is that, whatever you’ve got going on in your life, everything you have in your life, you attracted to yourself out of your own desire. For example, I wrote yesterday that I grew up learning that love meant proving myself, and so I have attracted – and been attracted to – distrusting, disapproving people to whom I felt the need to prove myself.  I thought I could fix them.

What I didn’t realize then, but do now, is that I was exactly like them.  I didn’t trust the veracity of their love because I didn’t trust that I was lovable.  And inherent in trying to fix another person is disapproval of them.  Saying that I didn’t trust I was lovable is saying that I disapproved of myself, and I attracted people who validated my beliefs with the mistrust and disapproval I so desired.

In trying to fix them, I was really trying to fix myself.

A never-ending source of pain and shame for me in my life is that I attract men who want to use me to gratify their sexual desires.  I attract these kinds of men almost exclusively, or perhaps they are the only ones who ever bother to make their romantic intentions known.  This happened to me again today and it was quite the black mark on my day.  Objectively, it was a nothing of an event, yet it made me feel horrible about myself and the world.

I was sitting on the metro looking every bit the foreigner and doing myself no favors in blending in by reading a book, in English, of course, from my Kindle.  I noticed the man sitting next to me glance over at me a couple times before turning to ask me a question while holding up his phone to show me what looked like a text exchange he was having.  I didn’t understand what he was asking and told him I don’t speak Portuguese.  Most people just turn away from me at this point, but he seemed very interested in talking to this foreigner.  We managed to stumble through a few pleasantries and superficial questions about where we’re from, travel, etc. when he asked me for my phone number.

I was taken aback.  I was enjoying the conversation and the opportunity to use and grow my Portuguese, and I enjoyed what seemed like an honest interest in me as a human being on his behalf, but the idea that this superficial conversation should extend beyond this subway ride was incomprehensible to me.  Clearly, we can’t communicate with one another.  And, while he may be enjoying listening to me butcher his language, we’ve pretty much already exhausted our conversation material, so why on earth would he want my phone number?  This was the instantaneous thought in my head, and of course the answer was obvious before I’d even formed the question in my mind.

I was paralyzed inside.  We had established no connection, nothing that compelled me to pursue this “relationship” beyond the metro ride.  Him trying to do exactly that – to pursue the “relationship” further without having first established the connection necessary to make doing so worthwhile – felt like a betrayal to me.  We’re sitting on the metro, surrounded by people, we’re the only two people talking, and he basically says “oh, you’re from the U.S?  I’m going to Orlando in October.  Do you have What’sApp?  Give me your phone number.”  It was an awkward situation and I felt trapped – saying no would make the situation even more awkward and uncomfortable for the untold number of minutes that would pass before one of us exited.

Now, intellectually, I realize this is not a big deal.  But, emotionally, it was a disaster.  Many women in this same situation would simply say “no” with no feelings of shame or guilt or feeling compelled to explain their “no.”  I felt very much in the spotlight, given the circumstances, and felt like he’d laid a trap for me.  All that shame and guilt I wrote about yesterday boiled up and I suddenly felt under extreme pressure.  I did not want to give him my phone number – my internal guidance system was very clear about this.  And yet, I felt I couldn’t say no – some combination of societal pressure to be acquiescent, wanting to avoid that awkward metro ride (I wrote about this here when I wrote about lying), and feeling as though I must have done something wrong to bring this on myself prevented me from doing so.

There is an intense resistance inside me when these things happen.  “This isn’t happening,” I think.  I don’t want to believe that this person is so blatantly trying to use me; I don’t want to see them as a user.  And because I refuse to accept the  reality of the situation, I cannot respond appropriately to it.

I tried to give a soft no.  “You want my phone number?”  I asked with surprise.  Then, laughing and with a look of confusion on my face, added “why?”  I couldn’t say all the things I wanted to say:  “We can’t talk to each other – why do you want my number?” “We don’t live in the same country – why do you want my number?”  My response was meant to gently communicate my disinterest and to point out that there’s no good reason for him to be asking for my phone number, but it probably just looked like flirting to him.  “So we can go get food in Ipanema,” he said.

Deal done.  I put my number in his phone.  As if to highlight his error in trying to turn the situation into something it wasn’t and my error in allowing it to happen instead of calling it out by its name, we then sat in awkward silence for a minute or two before I was finally able to conceive of another question to ask him.  He got off the metro before I did and we parted with the traditional kisses on each cheek, except most people’s are short air kisses, whereas his were full and lingering.

I was really disgusted by both he and I.  There was no compassion or empathy or lovingkindness in my immediate reflections on this – there was only hatred of him for “doing this to me” and of myself for letting it happen yet again.  I made him out to be “bad” and myself to be shameful – perhaps making him out to be bad is me trying to foist my shame onto him.

I am tortured by the questions “why does this keep happening to me?” and “why can’t I calmly and kindly say ‘no’ – why do I have to make it into an issue?”  My shame causes me to feel inordinately responsible for the situation and, therefore, for his feelings.  Instead of being honest and saying “no,” I am dishonest and go along with the sham to avoid feeling guilty about hurting his pride.

If you are what you attract, then I attract users so I can use them in return.  And how might I use someone like him in return?  For validation and approval – pleasing a user is as easy as giving them what they want.  Boom!  Validated…  There’s probably also an element of being a victim that appeals to me – I like being in the role of victim because I enjoy my own self pity.  The answer to the question “why does this keep happening to me?” is “because I keep wanting it.”  I’m still searching externally for the love and approval my mother didn’t provide me instead of finding it in myself.  In doing so, I unconsciously invite users into my life in misguided attempts to heal that festering old wound.

Acknowledging – shining the light of awareness on – our flaws and shortcomings robs them of their power.  Perhaps my insights here will help me to better see just what it is I’m attracting to myself and to respond to the situation – and to myself and others – with more patience, kindness, and compassion.

TL;DR:  Got hit on in the metro, suffered spiritual breakdown a result.