Hot Girls Have Commitment Issues: The Hot Pursuit of Change

My fear of commitment is crippling. Gamophobia is defined as a fear of commitment, but interestingly enough it refers specifically to the fear of marriage. It’s derived from the Greek words Gamos meaning marriage and Phobos meaning fear. Pretty straight forward. The term commitmentphobia was originally coined in a popular men’s self help book in the 80’s called Men Who Can’t Love. The book received backlash when critics pointed out that the book was sexist- Shocker! Implying that only men were commitmentphobic. Women read the title of the book and thought Great! Another bullshit excuse men can use in this hellfire we call dating- we want in on it. People claim that feminists only want in on the benefits that men have. What’s that argument misogynists love to use when talking about giving women basic human rights? Something along the lines of If women want equality, then put them in the draft! As if any man in North America was drafted in the last 50 years. Feminism is about equal rights to all individuals, irrespective of gender, including the right to proudly deem yourself a failure in love and life in the same ways that men have proven to be over and over again for not just decades but centuries. Following the criticism, because while the patriarchy has an issue awarding women equal pay- it has no problem awarding women blame, the authors created a revolutionary follow-up self-help book called He’s Scared, She’s Scared. 

All this to say, I have commitment issues but not in the traditional sense. A fear of marriage or long-term partnership has never been one actively on my mind (never say never though). In fact, my fear of commitment in general has never been something actively on my mind until I graduated from my second Bachelor’s degree. I’ve always been someone who has a plan. I know exactly where I’m starting and I’ve thoroughly researched all the steps in between to get from point A to point B. I like a plan so much that I have multiple plans. I have a minimum of three different plans happening at all times in case one of the plans doesn’t work out and then I still need options so better to have two backup plans rather than one (DING DING DING! red flag #1 obviously). While my friends spent much of their undergraduate years and well into the first few of their postgraduate years debating how to spend the rest of their lives, I prided myself on being someone who knew exactly what they were going to do. I graduated high school with an acceptance into a program that allowed me to move seamlessly from my Bachelor of Arts into my Bachelor of Education and then straight into teaching. This was a decision I made for myself when I was 17 years old, but it was a decision that wouldn’t come to fruition until I was 22 years old. I spent those years mindlessly going through the motions. I committed myself to this plan with no questions asked. Not to say that I didn’t enjoy myself, I loved my undergraduate degree, so much so that when the time-old question comes up at the dinner table 

What would you do if you won the lottery?

My answer has always been and will always be

If I won the lottery tomorrow I would go to school. I would enrol in a program in something I’ve always wanted to take but was too scared to do. Something that felt impractical. Something that felt like it wouldn’t give me guaranteed job security. Something like pottery or sculpting or screenwriting or midwifery. I would spend a few days a week in classes, unbothered and unworried about grades because the cost of the course really doesn’t matter. And then I would spend the rest of the other days of my life just existing. 

However, despite my love for my undergraduate degree I didn’t give it much thought. I never questioned it. I followed the plan because that’s what was in the plan. I worked at a community centre to build experience on my resume. I taught dance classes, art classes, mommy and me classes. I taught teenagers, babies, toddlers, and seniors. I taught in a camp, in a classroom, in a gym. I convinced my friends to come and work with me. I helped my friends apply to teachers college. I made their course schedules for them. I had a friend who studied business law in university and needed a summer job so I had her come work with me at a summer camp and after one summer she decided to change career paths and go to teachers college after graduation. She now works as a special education teacher and I now have no idea what I want to do and I’ve just recently decided I’m okay with that (most days). 

When I finally finished the 6 years of school, the 2 degrees, the endless (unpaid) placements, the volunteering, and the interviews I could finally start working as a supply. This is when the rose-coloured glasses shattered and I saw the last few years of my life for what they really were. This on-set of fear was abrupt- this constant question in my head. What if I’m a teacher forever? The issue wasn’t with the idea of teaching but rather the idea of forever. I started to look around and see all the people who I’d studied with, and confided in for the last few years. We had shared conversations about our practicum teachers, and prepped for our interviews together, we talked about all the things they did wrong and all the things we would do right in our classroom. I saw them posting the 

“Welcome to Ms. _ _ _ _ _ _ ‘s Grade 5 Classroom”

and I felt my body rejecting it like my dog wearing his snowshoes. A hot burning tightness in my stomach would build. I could feel a rash breaking out. My whole body felt itchy. Instantly hot. Picture Carrie Bradshaw when she tries on the ugly wedding dress. Every time I saw them I could feel myself judging but I couldn’t figure out why. This was exactly what I had wanted to do since high school. Some would say it was jealousy, jealous that I didn’t have my own classroom. But I cannot stress this enough- it was actively anti jealousy. Not one inch of me wanted to be doing what they were doing- and that was the problem. Part of both the benefit and the issue with supply teaching is the sheer amount of time you have on your hands. The day ends before 3:00pm, and most of the time when supplying in a high school classroom teachers leave work periods. The purposeless days left me with too much time to think about my life, my future, and so much more. In case you’ve never had the time to spend hours introspectively examining your life, believe me when I tell you Socrates was a liar; the unexamined life is probably the ONLY one worth living. Ignorance is bliss and all that. But I kept trying to pinpoint what I loved so much about teaching at a community centre and what I hated so much about teaching now? Why was I avoiding a permanent teaching position? 

I came to a few realizations about myself and what I actually like that have nothing to do with teaching but everything to do with personal preference. 

Constant Challenge

One of the things you realize as an adult, the moment you start working, is that no institution is a professional institution. The people who you think are professionals in this building are just people who decided they could be in charge. By no means does this make them capable of being in charge but just confident enough to be in charge. This includes classes that you take at the community centre. Most of the time I would sign up to instruct a class on a hobby I had very minimal talent or information on and spend hours researching and learning alongside the registrants for this class and by the end of the session I’d have a new hobby. No feeling is more exhilarating than the constant reassurance that you can do anything you put your mind to. 

Constant Change 

I worked in buildings all across my home city. Each session meeting new people, teaching new classes, and being in new spaces. My life felt full with the opportunity of a new experience always within view. 

Movement 

Majority of the classes I instructed were classes that allowed me to be physical. Dance, drama, basketball, soccer. Even art classes let me stand in front of a room of people and circulate the room. As I previously stated, as someone who has always loved school, I assumed I would love a job that involved working with a pen and paper. But I quickly learned- the key to a great job is a job that lets you move. 

Laughing 

When working in recreation the main purpose to any and all classes that I taught was to make sure people were enjoying themselves. Each and every day I woke up and made sure I (amongst my participants) laughed. 

Performance

As a former theatre student the thrill of public speaking is one that sounds appealing to me. Unlike most people, I’m brave enough to admit I love attention. 

Personal Wins 

While most say that teaching is something fulfilling and purposeful because you have the satisfaction of bettering someone else’s life. No one really talks about how difficult it is to show up to work and be in a position where you are constantly needed, and constantly giving. As a 20 something year old teenager living in a post-covid economy feeling like I lost years of my life I don’t have an interest in spending my life dedicated to everyone but myself (and I don’t think this is something to apologize for). When teaching in a recreational environment I was obtaining personal wins if not daily then weekly at minimum for all the aforementioned reasons. 

Now all this aside, this doesn’t mean that these needs haven’t been or cannot be met in a professional education environment but what I will say is it felt like the successes in these areas were diminishing rather than growing. I’d have these moments where I could see myself 30 years from now in the same job, doing the same thing- feeling suffocated rather than excited. I would chalk these fears up to the post academic brain rot- the feeling of missing personal education. Filling my days with article reading, drawing, writing, fidgeting, twitching, and I think you’re starting to get my point. The itch couldn’t be scratched. So then I decided to apply for my master’s degree, I wasn’t going to do it- I was just applying just to see. I started to think about what I really loved about academia. There are a lot of them but for the purpose of this think-piece (the piece no one is reading except me) and with the consideration of my fan’s timebase- I’ll tell you about the only one relevant to my aversion to stability. 

The Dreams 

I, Lauren DiBenedetto, am a dreamaholic. If you ask any of my friends and any of my family members they can list out some of the (in most people’s opinion, unattainable) dreams I’ve had in the past (and maybe still presently have). As a student, the world is Sylvia Plath’s Fig Tree. If you’re not familiar with the Fig Tree analogy read a f*cking book. But also the idea being that each fig on the tree represents a potential path. For me those figs would include a high school teacher, novelist, screenwriter, director, professor, actor, and owner of a children’s arts studio. As a student there’s not just opportunity for change, but you’re encouraged to change. Take a new kind of class, be a beginner and find a new talent, try out all the things… Because very shortly you’ll be a graduate that needs the stability of a consistent pay cheque and suddenly all the freedom and choice disappears. 

This is the part that I clearly have an issue with- the ability to let go of all the other possibilities and commit to one dream forever and ever till death do we part (or at least until retirement). I come here today, as a reformed planner. As the polyamorist of careers. As someone who didn’t just apply to their master’s but as someone who’s now one whole semester into their master’s. As someone who’s doing everything they tell you not to do and currently has their hands in all the pots. I’m somehow both a student and a teacher. I’m a writer and an intern. I have too many jobs and endless hobbies and I’m chasing each and every one of them with equal vigour and ambition. I think-

(warning: trusting advice from this individual may result in unpredictable opinions, questionable suggestions, and increased risk of non-normative societal perspectives. Side effects may include existential crises, quitting your job, and weird looks from estranged family at family events.) 

-The idea that it’s too late to switch career paths is one that we feel almost instantaneously and one that we need to radically reject with each and every choice we make. We feel this as early as 18 when we’re in our second year of a program and the thought of starting over and the idea of our first year being a waste of time is enough to make you drop out and give up altogether. This feeling never relents. The idea of changing career paths presents itself as a risky decision. It’s framed as this jump into the abyss. A shot in the dark. The fact of the matter is, it’s never too late to change career paths. If anything, the older you get the closer you should be to a career change and a new dream. If each and every day we chase our dreams, at some point in our life time we should hope to attain them. And if a dream has been attained, shouldn’t we find a new one? The goal is to collect dreams the way we collect pennies in our piggy banks. 

After what seems like an extensive rant that no one will read (talk about a long walk for a short drink of water) I’ll leave you to decide whether or not you think my comittophobia mirrors that of the gamophobia that presents itself in singles living in NYC groping at you in a bar OR if I’ve convinced you to chase a life less committed, more curated.