Being thought of as a good wife or a good mother sounds like a compliment. I understand why it should make me feel secure. Someone sees a future with me. Someone thinks I could help build a life worth having. Yet I keep getting caught on a smaller, less comfortable question: Does he find me beautiful?
I know about some of the women he was with before me. I’ve heard about them and seen what they look like. Some were sex workers, and they were stunning. What stays with me, though, is the impression of how much he pursued them. He seemed determined to get their attention. With me, I don’t feel that same urgency.
That comparison is difficult to admit because it can sound as though I’m asking to win a contest nobody agreed to enter. I’m not interested in putting those women down. I’m trying to explain why being valued for my steadiness sometimes leaves me feeling strangely self-conscious.
I feel more like his support than someone he’s thrilled to be with. Even calling it that feels awkward. I don’t particularly want to be anybody’s prize, sitting somewhere looking impressive. I want to feel the warmth underneath the word: that he feels lucky, that he wants to get close to me, that the attraction is there without my having to search for evidence.
The closest comparison I can find is a man who worries that someone married him because he’s dependable and supportive, while her desire lives elsewhere. I understand why that would hurt. A person can appreciate everything you bring to a relationship and still leave you wondering whether they actually want you.
I don’t know whether I’m reading the difference correctly. I know I’m comparing what I’ve heard about his past with what I feel in the present, and those aren’t equally clear pictures. But the question keeps coming back: When he looks at me, does he see someone he wants, too?
