Ever since I was a child, I always had this feeling that I would live to the age of 67, like that was “old enough” for this life. And by those calculations, I would be experiencing my midlife crisis sometime between 2022 and 2024, which makes sense, considering how intense the last two years have been. However, I don’t attribute these 24 challenging months to age or biology. Rather, it’s been a byproduct of the environment I’ve grown up in and what happened to it when I began setting boundaries.
And unlike the cliches of what one does during a midlife crisis (i.e., buying a sports car or having a torrid affair with someone younger), my spiral consisted of spending money on business school, traveling, and a sprinkle on a luxury brand I recently stumbled upon and felt the pang of true love with (they’ll surely be getting a post of their own real soon). And, okay, yes, I did try online dating…again…even after the disturbing fiasco of 2020. (Heads up ladies, things have not improved on this front as evidenced by how it went down in 2022, before I officially swore off what I now call the demon apps, because I’m pretty sure Satan is the mastermind behind those things.)
I’ve heard people talk about their experiences setting boundaries, primarily the losses they face, and despite enduring my fair share of losses, I wasn’t prepared for both the thrill and the grief to come. For anyone who hasn’t ever set boundaries when necessary, I mean the challenging kind that’s not so easy to set, let me tell you, it is exhilarating and becomes a bit addictive—the right kind of addiction. But, it also comes with quite a few painful realizations that may not be so easy to digest.
I set my first boundary right after New Year’s Day. Just a few months prior, I went on a date with a guy I had known for about 5-6 years as an acquaintance, even though when we first met, I got the sense he was interested in more. Five-ish years later, he finally made a move and asked me out. On a weeknight, he made the trek all the way from Los Angeles to Orange County and dressed to impress (a rarity)! The date was decent to start; I was nervous and he did most of the talking, but it wasn’t until halfway through that the real shocker kicked in. He started talking about exes and how he doesn’t believe in burning bridges—the polar opposite of my opinions on exes—when he said, “I mean for example, one of my exes and I started talking again and it’s nice.” I did a double take and asked, “Wait, wait, hold on, sorry to interrupt, but did you say you started talking again to your ex-girlfriend?” Nonchalantly, he replied, “Yes,” and tried to continue his train of thought, but I interjected. “Like, you’re together again?” He nodded. “Since when?” I asked, to which he replied, “Oh, since April and it’s been nice.” Looking away I laughed, and he didn’t notice continuing his monologue. I interjected one last time and said, “That’s interesting, because I thought this was a date, and if it’s not, then what is this?” Unfazed he said, “I believe in honesty, Dania, and being clear with intentions,” before continuing his previous point. I brought us back to my point and he said, “I do like you, I’ve liked you since we met,” and trailed off into discussions on economy and politics. I was done, but a few months later, when he texted me, “Happy New Year!” and asked me out again I knew it was time to drop the hammer.
My policy is simple: I don’t go out/hang out with guys alone if they’re in a relationship. It’s just my preference, out of respect for myself and for the other woman, and I told him just that. Considering the age difference, I half expected a mature response from him (lol), but instead I got a, “I totally understand Dania, however…” text and that was enough for me. The “however” indicated that what followed was likely a rebuttal to my boundary. A few weeks later, I remembered he texted and decided to open it and found I was exactly right. He spent three paragraphs trying to dissuade me from my stance, insisting I reconsider.
Leaving him on read, as the kids say, was invigorating and I realized how empowering standing up for my principles actually was. How for many years I continuously sacrificed bits of myself here and there for the sake of not losing people, and how I had grown exhausted.
God was ready to test my strength a few more times to see how well I’d hold on, this time with a “friend.” It started when I began to realize that after every hangout or conversation with her, I’d end up feeling drained instead of rejuvenated like I do after other friend outings/conversations. Then I began to notice that she only ever reached out to meet up last minute. Not once had she ever agreed to planning ahead, even when I tried. And finally, I realized that she (unfortunately like most of the girls I grew up with) had never attended or supported a single event, initiative, or project I hosted, performed at, or curated. Whether it was a book release party, a poetry reading, a domestic violence awareness event, or a Syrian cultural event, none of these girls had ever shown up or donated or made a purchase or at the very bare minimum liked and shared the work (and most are Syrian, so it always baffles me that they still turn the other cheek when it comes to the Syrian nonprofit work).
So one day, per usual, she texted me to ask if I was “free in an hour” because she “might be” in my neighborhood. Instead of making the mistakes I had made before and freeing myself up for the sake of a social life at my expense, I told her that while I love hanging out, it’s been really hard to keep up with last minute outings between two jobs and school, and that it would be great if we could plan ahead for the following week. She LOL’ed at my message and followed it up with, “Well, whenever you are free last minute, hit me up.” That response felt like three strikes in one, especially since she sent a few more “You free?” texts in the following weeks, and when I invited her to an upcoming performance, she said she had “errands.” I started to wonder why I make the effort to attend the events of these girls who’ve never had my back. I think it was then that I decided my midlife crisis would include a vow to step back from this community and all their social events.
The tests came three more times and thrice my boundaries were rejected, and I’m not going to lie, it is somewhat defeating. To vulnerably but kindly ask my family, my friends, my community to respect my time or space or preferences only to have them continuously rejected is frustrating and demeaning. The irony is when someone sets boundaries, they are somehow painted the villain, the dramatic emotional one, the person undergoing some inexplicable midlife crisis. This is one of a few reasons I’ve really been considering moving once I graduate (most everyone I know who has left California seems to be happier, so here’s hoping a new job comes through soon). After all, isn’t a midlife crisis the right time to reinvent oneself? I’ve already gotten a head-start: new email , new phone number, and a whole new platform for Lady Narrator!