Priorities

I was talking with my good friend the other day ( a pseudonym is still forthcoming for her, so I'll just refer to her as G) and we were on the subject of her pseudo-boyfriend. He had recently given her the line, "I don't feel like I'm the number one priority in your life" since she doesn't drop whatever she's doing the moment he calls.
I rolled my eyes. Where do guys come up with this stuff? That's not fair, I suppose--it's something that's been tossed around in relationships for ages from all sides. Priorities, priorities: holding this person above all others, above all other responsibilities that you have. They call, you pick up by the second ring. You have a mountain of work to do, but they want to watch "Lost" instead. The list goes on, but eventually you reach The Discussion, where they look at you with slightly downcast eyes, maybe a pout, so you ask what's wrong and they answer: "I don't feel I'm the number one priority in your life."

Now, don't get me wrong--I know what it's like to feel as though you're not the major priority to someone who you're close to. For many of my formative dating years, I was the one who would call and ask if he wanted to come over and hang out but nah, he felt like staying in. Okay, I'll come to you, then, despite having to get up at 7 a.m. for work! This may seem like a trivial example but essentially I was like an over-eager spaniel, waiting for them to say "when" and throw the ball.

I realize now I probably should have scaled it back and played it cool but I wasn't seasoned enough for it at that point. It took all those examples to wear me down and teach me that taking a step back and not always making them my number one priority was a good way to keep my sanity intact. So I come to my most recent relationship.

We were both finishing up grad school, I was starting to look for jobs, so my head was in a million places. We liked each other, certainly, even dropped the L bomb and made tentative plans for moving in together. He didn't want to move out of the current city; I was ready to run as fast as I could away from the Midwest. And so we get to the fated day where he drops the line.

I can't remember if I rolled my eyes at him or not; I think I probably tried not to, and I was also trying not to laugh at him. It's such an awful response and I don't know why my first instinct was to laugh, but it really did seem ridiculous to me. I rarely if ever chose TV over him. I listened to his endless roommate troubles. I thought I deserved a Gold A+ Girlfriend Medal--except for the fact that I was thinking about my future. I was thinking about a job. I didn't want to stay where he wanted to stay. I was--gag--thinking of independence. And there's the problem--the codependent and the independent trying to hash out a plan for the future. He sees me trying to change things and he blanches. Maybe it was mostly on my own terms, but his uncertain plans for the future didn't seem to be fully formed yet so I took the reigns. I had finally rid myself of my spaniel qualities, and we broke up.

Perhaps it's time we readjust the priority hierarchy in relationships. Instead of having it be something along the lines of:
1. Significant Other!!!!


2-1000. Everything else

Perhaps it can be more of a spectrum: my cat, significant other, job, friends, family, "Survivor."

In my mind, taking away the numbering system takes away the hierarchical importance; everything is now on an even playing field, time devoted to each can be divided up however one chooses. It's more mathematical than I planned, but I feel that it's a good start. So the next time you're fed the "I'm not the number one priority in your life anymore" line, you can feed them the linear spectrum line and say, "See? We're all equal, here."

Or you can roll your eyes, say, "Pretty much" and show them the door.