I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. –Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
This passage made me think about the perils of decision paralysis when it comes to selecting a partner. There are so many options available to us, real or imagined, that it’s kind of overwhelming. So many of us opt instead to do nothing instead of making one strong and solid choice, fearful of eliminating all of the other options.
Here is where I am in terms of dating right now: I am also sitting in the crotch of a fig tree. There are hundreds (if not thousands) of potential mate options surrounding me, on the internet and in life. But the thing is, these figs aren’t my style. Or they’re decidedly poisonous. I know exactly what I’m looking for and I don’t feel compelled to reach out for any of these figs.
Should I continue to go hungry, waiting around for just the right fig for me?
How long is too long to wait until I am the one that wrinkles, goes black and plops to the ground?
And god damn it, what if I’m supposed to be sitting in a mango tree?
