Dear Laura, part 2

On navigating new relationships as a detransitioner when you’re still quite vulnerable

Hi Laura,

I’m glad to hear that my first letter was well-received. You’ve just written me a second letter with information so personal I don’t want to share your precise words on my blog, but readers will get the gist.

You speak of a whirlwind of mixed feelings toward a friend you’ve met online, an older man who lives in a different state. You say he’s become a close friend over the phone, who’s given you comfort, laughter, solace, wisdom, camaraderie. Lately, there’s been more flirtation, and the hint of something more. You say he’s offered to become “friends with benefits.” Reading between the lines, it seems a part of you craves the promise of intimacy, warmth, validation of your attractiveness, and an opportunity to practice being sexual (again? For the first time?) in the body you’re still adjusting to being in. Another part of you is starting to spot some red flags, and knows that this man isn’t suited to be your husband, give you children, or even be a boyfriend within 20 miles that you could count on seeing on a regular basis.

My first questions are: have you told your therapist about this situation? Why or why not? What parts have you told her but not me (I assume it’s a woman?), me but not her, and so on? It’s possible you are engaging in what we call splitting, compartmentalizing parts of yourself and assigning them to different relationships. This can be a way of projecting ambivalence onto important people in your life and playing it out. If that resonates, you might do some honest self-reflection as to what you hope and fear hearing from each person you’ve shared a part of this story with. Identifying that “I haven’t told so-and-so because I fear she would tell me such-and-such” might tell you that “such-and-such” is exactly the bitter pill you need to swallow. Conversely, you might also feel resistance to hearing “such-and-such” because it’s not the right advice for you. The point is, there’s a lot to explore just in what you share with whom, when, and why.

I’ll act on wild guesses as to why you’ve shared this part with me, without knowing what you’ve shared with your therapist. I could be wrong. Perhaps your therapist knows things about you I don’t (I mean, obviously she must; you’ve been working with her a while and we just got started with this letter exchange), and you’re hoping for a response from me that’s not informed by how my perspective might be different if I knew those things. Sexual trauma, perhaps? Or, to put it tritely, "daddy issues”? Or something else you’ve spared about this special friend?

That could be way off. Another guess is that perhaps your therapist is the more cautious type, exploratory, slow to express any thoughts, feelings or judgments of her own. Maybe you fear she wouldn’t be direct enough with you, or would be too permissive. (Again, I say this knowing nothing at all about your therapist.) Maybe, given that you know I’m not your therapist and I can be fairly blunt and opinionated, you’re wanting that kind of approach. Maybe you see me as an older, wiser woman who will take you under my wing and give you an earnest talking-to in a way that would be too unprofessional of your actual therapist. Maybe you’re looking for an auntie figure to tell you exactly what she thinks.

I’m inclined to take on that role, because I’m free to do so as not-your-therapist. I think we need a variety of relationship types in life, and many lost 20-somethings could use someone a bit older as a down-to-earth confidant on real life stuff.

If I were being your therapist, I’d have to proceed cautiously, and make room in the therapeutic process for you to play out both sides of your ambivalence, really getting in touch with what different parts of you want. I’d have to be cautious not to side with any part in particular, because then you’d be likely to see me as having an agenda for you, and you’d be tempted to double down on standing up for what the other part of you wants, and we’d get into a power struggle.

But just speaking as a woman with more life experience, here’s what I think. Take it or leave it.

I think you ought to distance yourself from this friend. I don’t think he’s good for you anymore. I think your wires have gotten crossed.

If that makes you feel lonely or terrified of being without support, then you have some deep self-reflection to do as to why other available sources of support are not such shiny objects as the attention of an older man.

Give yourself credit for your efforts in this friendship. They represent good things that are yours to take with you, and they won’t be lost if you never speak to this man again. It’s healthy and appropriate to want and seek emotional intimacy. To want and seek someone to confide in, to laugh and cry with, to feel good around, to turn to for comfort and guidance. Those are all human relational needs. You have every right, and frankly an obligation to yourself, to seek those out. The fact that you found them partly fulfilled with this person for a moment in time should help you feel a bit more assured that you are someone who wants and seeks relational health. You bring value to relationships. People enjoy talking to you and they want to be close with you. Good for you. Please take a moment to take that in.

Here’s the thing, though. He crossed a line. Now, I’m not going to go so far as to call this “grooming,” because I don’t know his intentions. They could be honorable. But I’m inclined to believe a man his age should know better. And from this angle, where I stand, the bad news is, it does appear that he’s exploited your vulnerability.

He knows you are young, unstable, recovering from complex trauma, insecure, lonely. He knows you doubt your worth, attractiveness, lovability, and capacity for having the kind of relationship you most deeply want. He sees an opportunity. He’s going for it. And that makes me lose respect for him.

Frankly put, this sort of situation rarely works out well for the woman. A man of his ilk is happy just to be able to have a sexual experience with a younger woman. But you need so much more than that. You need a local boyfriend, who has the potential to become a husband and father. More essentially, you need your self-esteem. And that’s where I’m particularly irked with this man for not acting on the higher wisdom he should have accrued by his age. It seems like he’s presenting this friends with benefits, uh, “opportunity,” as something that will lift you up and make you feel better about yourself. Maybe it would, momentarily, give you a confidence boost to have someone show attraction to you. But it would most likely lead to disappointment in the long run, emotional confusion, perhaps even self-disgust if you’re not truly attracted to the guy — and just how healthy and handsome would a man of his age have to be in order to be truly attractive to a woman your age? I’m worried that you’re acting out a “repetition compulsion” of daddy issues (though I know nothing of your background there, it’s just a guess), and that you might be playing out some of the beliefs expressed in your last email — namely, that you’ve ruined your desirability. Is there an underlying belief that only a man of his age and social status would be attracted to you? That this is the best you can do, so you might as well take what you can get? If that’s what you’re really thinking, by far the safer route for your mental health is to work on challenging that belief rather than acting it out.

Look, unfortunately, older men are hard-wired to be attracted to younger women. And if they don’t have a whole lot going for them — if they’re not rich, powerful, handsome — then opportunities to pursue younger women are rare and exciting to them. But just because a tendency is hard-wired doesn’t make a man beholden to succumb to primal instincts. And based on your admiration for Jordan Peterson, I’m guessing that deep down you know what the duty of a fully grown, self-actualizing man is in a situation like this. And it’s not to be a sexual opportunist, leaning into a vulnerable woman’s naïveté. It’s to be a stand-up guy who owns and occupies his place in life as an elder, as someone who could be your father. His job should be to protect you, including from your own naïveté and his own inner caveman. His job should be to say No, even if you test the waters of crossing boundaries and initiate the flirting. No: I care about you too much to let you self-destruct by getting involved with me. No: I believe in you, your capacity for healing, and your ability to find someone who can give you so much more than I ever could. No: please go talk to your therapist, your sisters, your friends, about why you’d feel drawn to an old fuddy-duddy like me. No: I’m old and wise enough to know that it wouldn't take long for you to feel ashamed and regretful about lowering your standards, and the last thing I want is for you to feel worse about yourself.

I hear that you’ve found camaraderie with this man in terms of your history of emotionally abusive relationships. Be careful with that. There’s a danger of trauma-bonding. While it can be precious and healing to find commonality with others who’ve been abused, it’s also a precarious foundation for any significant relationship. There’s also a danger of that information being used to exploit your personal weaknesses. Claiming shared victimhood is a great way to get intel on what hurts you the most. I’m not saying this guy would do that, but if you leave yourself too open, anyone could. Finally, “I’m a victim too” is a great disguise for a perpetrator. Take it from me. I entered the worst abusive relationship of my life right after leaving what I thought was the worst abusive relationship of my life. I walked straight from the arms of one abuser into the next, because Abuser #2 wore the sneaky disguise of the meek, gentle guy who cared about my trauma. Yikes.

Girlfriends are the best medicine. Look to other sources of support. And as for your need for male energy? Keep watching those Jordan Peterson lectures until you’ve better honed your radar to seek the right qualities in men, and built your self-esteem up to the point where you’re ready to walk away the moment someone reveals any hint of ulterior motives.

Questions for reflection: what are my “daddy issues” or “mommy issues?” What dysfunctional patterns am I unconsciously tempted to repeat through new relationships — abuse, neglect, blurring of boundaries, exploitation of power? Am I testing others’ boundaries? What do I hope or fear might happen in response? What am I hoping will go differently this time? How can I reclaim the power to make things go differently by the power of my own choices?

What are my biggest triggers for loneliness? Where am I tempted to look for support in the wrong places? Where am I blind or disregardful toward healthier forms of support? What can I do differently to surround myself with safe, caring people?

What masculine [or feminine] archetypes do I admire? (JP) What would he [or she] say to me about this situation?

All for now,

Stephanie