My Ex-Boyfriend’s “Trading Out” System

I briefly dated someone who was a serial relationship hopper. He would date one person for a while, take stock, and then – as he liked to call it – “trade out” that relationship for a new one that offered the hope of new and improved qualities and characteristics that compensated for what the soon-to-be discarded relationship lacked.

On one of our early dates, he felt comfortable revealing how he took an inventory of all his new relationships. Even at the time, I identified this as Red Flag #1. This should have sent me heading out the door toward home, where I could enjoy some quality alone time with a large bag of Gardetto’s mix and a few episodes of Breaking Bad. Silly me – maybe because I was curious, I stayed to learn about this great system of his.

Apparently, he had identified ten categories – his Top Ten, he called them – that he deemed essential to stay in any relationship: financial stability, athletic body, good sense of humor, steady employment, super intelligent . . . and, Lordy, I can’t recall the rest. Notice that I listed “financial stability” as number one. I’ll come back to this.

Little do we ever know what we are in for at the beginning of any relationship, but his priority of “financial stability” being at the top of his list should have been very telling right from the start. Call it "Red Flag #1.a."

The more we dated, the more convinced I became that his skewed system was exactly why he wasn’t able to stay settled with any current partner – ironically, something that he said he reallyreallyreally wanted. Some of his philosophy did have merit and seemed pretty basic to seeking a partner, I’ll admit – we all have some idea as to what we want in a relationship – but it was the blatant “trading out” part that wasn’t for me. You’ll see why.

Here’s how his system worked: You start out by making a list of the top ten categories that you are looking for in a partner and then, when you meet someone, you check off what applies. Let’s say that your new person only checks off 6/10 of the categories . . . which doesn’t sound all that great or promising . . . but this might not actually turn out to be a bad score.

Why? Because the only 2 categories that were sorely missing in your previous relationship (who happened to be a whopping 8/10) are now generously accounted for within your new partner’s count of 6/10. It’s like a swap meet: I’ll trade out empathy and honesty for independence and good communication. It’s not exactly a balanced trade but you don’t know this until you find yourself in a relationship with an indifferent liar. As evidenced by him, it’s not so easy to weigh all of this stuff out.

For all intents and purposes, the "new and improved" partner feels to be a so much better fit in the beginning. Let me emphasize for effect: in the beginning. For example, you have really been missing out on two of your categories – “Athletic” and “Refuses to Own a TV” – as your previous partner was a couch potato who only wanted to watch TV all weekend instead of getting outdoors for a competitive game of disc golf – your outdoor hobby of choice.

You are satisfied for a time with said New Person (who has the somewhat dismal score of 6/10) and you are thoroughly enjoying your time in the park on the weekends trying to hit designated baskets with your discs until . . . you realize you are missing those key items from your Top Ten List . . . such as “great sense of humor” and “serves me coffee in bed.” While New Person is super athletic and likes disc golf, she turns into a gremlin if she doesn’t get a full eight hours of sleep every night. You can kiss that cup of coffee in bed goodbye. Gremlins don’t serve you coffee in bed.

You can see where this all leads . . . you then start to look for a new partner who is funny as hell and is willing to serve you your Americano while you are propped up against a nice backrest of pillows.

But wait. There is a tire iron that has been thrown into the mix: this newest person does have a lot of credit card debt and exorbitant school loans that are affecting her credit score and she does kind of have a big nose (superficial weasel).

Hmmmm . . . what now? You guessed it! Trade out! And find someone who has a trust fund and is drop-dead gorgeous. Oh, and don’t forget someone who is also super athletic and has a hilarious sense of humor . . . oh, and who is thoughtful enough to serve you coffee in bed before she serves herself.

I know. Complicated, much?

In case you are curious, the relationship with this Trading Out Titan did not have any staying power and could be summarized in one word: doomed. As you can imagine, he had zero interest in contributing and a lot more interest in hitting his inventory’s quota. There were some funny things about him that I did get a kick out of, but this wasn’t enough to tip any scale toward “let’s wait and see.”

For example, when I introduced him to a group of my girlfriends at one of those we-need-to-check-the-new-boyfriend-out dinners, he was hilarious and entertaining. I could tell my girlfriends really liked his wit and his charm, and he seemed quite able to handle himself well in a new social situation.

Before we left for the evening, he made a show of looking at his watch and then announced to me that he was now on overtime – indicating that he was a male escort that I had hired for the evening. My girlfriends screamed with laughter, and he beamed like the sun. When I look back at this dumb party prank, I still can’t remember why everyone thought it was so funny. Maybe it was the bottle of tequila we consumed that night. Quite likely.

But you can guess that there were other things that were negative marks in my column of his qualities. He was obsessed with my debt load and constantly referred to one of his previous exes who was in much better financial shape, Saint Jules, who had sadly kicked him to the curb. The Beautiful Jules had made the additional blunder of loaning him money. (Jules actually was a trust fund child who had loads of dough . . . and was currently suing him in court for breach of contract.) There were other things, too inane to mention, regarding the miracles of Saint Jules, and I just got really tired of it all. It was apparent he liked Jules’ bank balance more than he would ever “like” me.

Thank God my big sister BJ had instilled the gift of self-esteem and righteous anger in me as we were growing up. I wearied of Saint Jules, his “trading out” system, and the reminders of every one of his other ill-fated shots at love who possessed qualities that I didn’t have. You can say it: he was not anyone with whom you would want to share a yoke before heading out to plow the fields of life.

I, graciously and without excessive emotion, ended the relationship and bid him farewell with a smile. I was glad to be done.

He seemed happy with this turn of relationship status (after all, I was missing some critical categories) and proceeded to turn the breakup back on me, stating that he actually had wanted to end the relationship first (What were we? Twelve?) . . . but he didn’t know how I was going to take receiving such an infinite blow. Blah blah blah. My answer: Good riddance. And do let the door hit you in the rear as you are leaving.

Whew, I had dodged a major bullet. I was quite relieved to be done with his trading-out system and considered him to be in my rearview mirror . . . until several months later. Apparently, he had consulted his neighbor therapist (never trust a therapist who gives free advice), telling her that he still sort of missed me. After hearing about how we broke up, she had advised him to let it simmer for a few months and see if he still felt sorry about the breakup. If so, he should return to me and resurrect the relationship.

Well, here’s the thing about third parties in a relationship: they don’t have all of the info. He showed up on my front porch about three months later with a contrite little-boy smile on his face. I could tell he hadn’t prepared himself for my greeting of, “What the hell are you doing here?” I guess you could say that “post-breakup-diplomacy” wouldn’t receive a check mark on his inventory of me.

I asked him to leave, and he wheedled, but I was done. Go. Carpe omnia. Ding Dong. Be gone. Whatever. C’est la vie. See ya. Find another Saint Jules (a mythical creature, surely). I don’t need to fill anybody else’s checklist to determine my worth or my value or my mojo in a relationship. I am happy to be me and to try to be a good human being in the process, so kindly get the f*#k out of here.

That is the last I heard from him. I heard a rumor or two about him from mutual friends, but they only confirmed what a $hit-fest he was still making of his life.

Oh, and as a reader, I would be curious, too. I never did ask him my rating. I had zero interest in knowing. After all, the system was clearly flawed, as evidenced by his lack of emotional or social intelligence. I must confess that it took some restraint on my part to not ask when we were breaking up, but I suspect that I must have ranked pretty high, what with him showing up again on my doorstep. I guess that exorbitant student loans must upstage getting kicked to the curb and sued by Saint Jules or not liking sushi.

To my trading-out ex: your system sucks. I know that we all carry our own brand of ideals, standards, benchmarks, and values, but you have been found wanting. You are barely a 2/10. You made me laugh and you never made me cry – which is why I gave you a 2. Jules, if you are reading this: be strong. You are a worthy woman who deserves great things in life . . . and good luck in court.