Dating an older white man my ex boyfriend is dating an ugly girl

“The possible connection here could be neatly characterized as Burning Man-esque.One can imagine the pair sharing insights about space travel, psychedelics, polyamory – mining the kind of self-exploration that has begun to split the difference between Silicon Valley libertarian nerd-core and millennial Tumblr-bred experimentalism,” it observed.

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I have a long story for everything, whether it’s about how I left home or how he can’t have a relationship with my parents (think vibes with his, and that times 10 with mine).Each time, he had a rebuttal that probably sounded cleverer in his head. “You better not let your parents control your life like that,” he said, with a derisive laugh. Of course, I didn’t realize I’d made that choice until I reflected back on my last year in men. But it’s the latter who always seem to require an explanation for all of the above, and also for why I lived at home as long as I did and had an early curfew, and why meeting my parents isn’t as simple as pencilling in a Friday night dinner.“Don’t be like other brown girls.” This from a man who had opened the date by telling me he’d never been out with “a brown girl” before, so he was excited to check that off his list, as if I were an item on a sample platter. And it wasn’t entirely based on Trent; the long list of Trents, Daves and Andys who came before him contributed to my decision, too. As a Pakistani-Canadian woman in her late 20s, there’s a pressure to never move out of home, to have children, to opt for an arrangement, to maintain the “back home” quo, where dating of any kind and pre-marital sex is considered deeply taboo. Sometimes it feels like even the way these men say my name—the practiced pronunciation, and the inevitable request for definition—is a slight, and that’s not because it’s wrong to ask (it isn’t). I wouldn’t, after all, inquire about the ethnic origins of a James or a Michael. Something tells me those conversations aren’t happening in the same way with our other halves.I don’t look the same; I have hair on every inch of my skin; I’m worried he might be fetishizing me; my circle of friends is multi-ethnic and loud and proud about it; I grew up in a diverse suburb that I can make fun of but he absolutely can’t; my favourite tote bag reads “Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man.” These are points of tension.So, they don’t have to lead to actual tension—but a lot of the time, they do.

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