Dating and being in academia is sorta like the same thing, like standing on a diving board, un-tethered, looking down into the great unknown.  Granted I have been a grad student longer than I have been dating (serial monogamist, yep, I’m one of those) but I’m convinced both produce the same feelings of incredibly high highs and ass-bottom lows, often leaving me lying in bed late at night, wondering: “Did that just really happen?”

To illustrate: Last year in November, I defended my prospectus, my dissertation proposal.  The feedback that I received up until that point was great.  Lots of work still needed to be done, but the topic and the work thus far? Promising!  So defense time came and I was pumped and ready to go, nervous, but optimistic.  I had my notes, my iced tea and a fly outfit on, ready for battle.  Then the rapid fire questions began.  I held my breath, took frantic notes and answered the questions as calmly as I could.  But inside I felt like a headless chicken running around thinking “Oh no they didn’t just cut my damn head off!”  It was brutal.  I walked into the room confident and walked out, two and a half hours later, a zombie, my ass on a shiny platter.  Did that just really happen?

Meanwhile, after being “off the market” for almost five years with someone who was supposed to be the one, I was not looking forward to dating.  Yikes!  How do I start all over again?  There was still a lot of work that needed to be done, some healing from the last relationship, some soul-searching and, well honestly, my ass needed working out, but finally I decided it was time.  And actually the prospect of meeting someone new and maybe falling in love again excited me for the first time in a long while.  It felt oh so promising!  So date night came, showered, did my hair, make-up and wore a new dress, looking fly, I thought.  Walked up to my date, held my breath a little and we’re off!  At first it was okay, he got us drinks, and I was feelin music and the vibe.  Then he started asking questions about my goals, my aspirations, how many kids I wanted to have, how much money I expected to make as a professor, my blood type, my credit score, what meds I took, etc.  Well, maybe not the last few, but you get the point.   He was auditioning for a maid, mother and baby factory all in one and I hightailed it outta there like my ass was on fire.  I went home that night disappointed, annoyed, a little sad, wondering where did I go wrong.  Did that just really happen?

Dating and dissertating.  Both harder than they look, exciting and intimidating, liberating and all-consuming, investment of both time and money, with moments of sheer euphoria and utter self-loathing.  Are they both worth it?  Yes!  At least I have to believe that it’s all worth it if I am to stay sane through out this whole process.  I have to believe that when that I write that perfect sentence to complete a perfect thought or have that perfect first kiss with an exciting new guy, that all the blood, sweat and tears are worth these small moments.  In dating and in writing this dissertation, nothing is absolutely certain, not the money, not the security, not the happy ever after.  And as scary as that may sound, I would rather always be standing on the edge of that diving board, holding my breath, ready to jump into unknown waters, than anywhere else in the world.