Being in my Rejection Era™️
Learning to accept my current status as a triple reject
According to prominent U.S. pop culture scholar and lyrical poet Taylor Swift, women don’t go through phases or cycles anymore: we embark on “eras”.
I’m currently in my Rejection Era™️—which, according to the Taylor Swift album cycle, lasts anywhere from 8 months to two years. At first, I didn’t even know that I was entering a new era. It’s not like when you get a postcard from your dentist and realize you haven’t had a cleaning since Florence Pugh silently slow-walked in Venice while sipping a spritz, demonstrating to the world the very definition of IDGAF like she was in an ad for Grammarly.
It all started a few months ago when my friend told me about Rejection Therapy, a new-ish TikTok trend where people force themselves to do things that feel embarrassing as a way to conquer their fear of rejection. Well, call me a trendsetter because I’d already been getting readily rejected in my real life.
Unlucky in lust
Signing up for a dating app is its own version of rejection therapy. After deciding to “get back out there” (a.k.a. upload non-repulsive photos of myself to multiple apps and add some clever captions that men never read), I was cautiously hopeful about my romantic prospects. While I didn’t exactly expect to find my soulmate, I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of rejection every time I swiped right on a guy who looked normal and didn’t have any cringe phrases like big golden retriever energy or wine enthusiast in his bio.
I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I was having ZERO luck. I dutifully spent an hour or two each day on the apps: liking men’s non-shirtless pics, commenting on their profiles, attempting to display my wit in less than 100 characters, and messaging guys as soon as we matched. The result of all this digital labor was the opposite of fruitful. I couldn’t find a man to save my life—or just get one to go on a date with me. It was official: I’d entered my Rejection Era™️.
Cultivating a relationship with rejection
My Rejection Rra™️ was not limited to my dating life. I was also receiving a slew of polite, well-worded, Grammarly-approved email rejections from literary agents whom I’d submitted my first novel to. Agents were un-matching me faster than a hot guy who’d swiped right by accident. Checking my email felt like a mini Rejection Therapy session: the only difference is that it’s harder to make a fun TikTok of someone looking at a computer screen and frowning.
A lot of writers come up with rejection goals instead of acceptance goals. The thinking is that if you set out to get 100 rejections in a year, you’re bound to get a few acceptances. This makes sense in theory but feels horrible in reality. In her book Make Your Art No Matter What, artist consultant Beth Pickens advises creatives to “cultivate a relationship with rejection.” My current relationship with rejection is that it sucks. Whether I get rejected once or 100 times, I don’t seem to develop tougher skin or become more resilient. I just get better at crying in coffee shops while the other patrons wonder why I look so despondent reading an email.
Excelling as a triple reject
In addition to all the literary and romantic rejections, I’m also getting rejected from a lot of jobs! Folks, I’m not just a triple threat—a writer, comedian, and unemployed—I’m a triple reject. At the moment, I’m really excelling as a triple-reject. In the past week alone, I:
Got straight-up ghosted by a guy I was dating (who does that anymore?? Couldn’t he just have used ChatGPT to write me a short rejection note and then copy + paste it into a text message?).
Swiftly applied, then was promptly denied for, a very high-paying job in a single day. The recruiter who recruited me for the role (Grammarly: please note the use of irony) told me I didn’t get a “thumbs up” for this one.
Was told by the sales clerk at DSW that I couldn’t return the Converse sneakers I had purchased, even though when I got home I discovered that the shoes inside were BOTH right feet and a different size than what was on the box?? Somehow, according to the sales clerk and the customer service representative she spoke to on the phone for 45 minutes, this mistake was my fault and I would not be getting my $59.99 back.
Rejection: we’re not friends, but we’re civil
Being in my Rejection Era™️ has been less than ideal. However, I do feel like these rejection therapists are onto something. The more you get rejected, the more normal it feels. When you’re going after what you really want in life, rejection is part of the process.
No way in hell am I embracing it though. I’ve decided to cultivate a civil relationship with rejection. When I run into rejection on the street, I will be polite and courteous, but not overly friendly. I will treat rejection the same way Florence Pugh treated Olivia Wilde at the Venice premiere of the film Pugh starred in and Wilde…sort of directed when she wasn’t too busy boinking Harry Styles in a Star Waggon:
Dear Rejection,
I’m not ignoring you, but I won’t acknowledge you either.
Signed,
Me (embodying my best F. Pugh IDGAF energy)