On being “high maintenance”
Earlier today, a friend’s boyfriend posted on Facebook, “In her heart of hearts, every woman who has ever lived assumes she’s low maintenance. Discuss.”
Someone made the comment that she thought of herself as low maintenance, because she’s independent and pulls her own weight. I immediately replied, “Let’s define the terms. I am fiercely independent and have no desire for a sugar daddy. But I want to be respected, cherished, and made someone’s top priority, and I refuse to let someone make me an afterthought. That’s what I mean by high maintenance.”
There’s this idea, apparently, that paying attention to and tending a relationship is a burden, and that a partner who wants and expects it is demanding. But why? We maintain our homes, our careers, our cars, our appliances, our teeth. Why not our relationships? Are they not worthy of our attention? Are they supposed to operate flawlessly on their own, with no care or fuel? What’s wrong with the idea that something valuable is worth caring for — especially if that something valuable is the well-being and happiness of the person you supposedly love?
No one is ever going to accuse me of being a prima donna. I’m not impossible to satisfy; I don’t whine or hold a grudge; I don’t nitpick about inconsequentialities. When I say I’m high maintenance, here’s what I’m saying: I know what I want, I refuse to apologize for wanting it, and I take full responsibility for it, including being willing to walk away from a situation when it becomes clear it’s never going to lead to what I want.
It took me years to get here, so I’m going to embrace it. High maintenance? You better believe I am. And I’m worth it.
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