Man, let me tell you, there was a time not too long ago when my love life felt like a tangled mess of old Christmas lights. You know the kind – you pull them out of the box every year and spend an hour trying to untangle them before you can even think about putting them on the tree. That was my situation, pretty much all the time.
I was just drifting. I mean, I dated people, sure. Went out, had some laughs, did the whole casual thing. But honestly, it felt like I was just going through the motions. Like I was trying to fit into shoes that just weren’t my size, or even my style. My friends would be all loved up, or talking about their serious relationships, and I’d just nod along, feeling this weird emptiness, like I was missing some instruction manual for how to actually feel good about who I was with, or even just what I wanted.
For a long while, I just kept telling myself, “It’ll figure itself out.” Or “Maybe I’m just not ready for anything serious.” Which, on some days, felt true. But on most days, it felt like a cop-out. Like I was just too scared to really dig in and figure out what the heck was going on inside my own head, inside my own heart. I’d go on dates, and I’d be thinking about laundry or what I needed to pick up from the grocery store. Not exactly a recipe for sparks flying, right?
Then, things started to shift. I hit a wall, I guess you could say. After one particularly dismal date – this guy spent the entire evening talking about his ex-girlfriend’s terrible taste in music – I just went home and stared at my ceiling for hours. It wasn’t about him, really. It was about me. It was about realizing that I was actively putting myself in situations that made me feel even more disconnected and frustrated. I was chasing something, but I had no clue what that something was, or if I even wanted it once I got it.
Realizing What Was Missing
That night, I just cracked open my laptop and started typing. Not a dating profile, not an email, just a jumble of thoughts. Things like: “Why do I feel so restless?” “What actually makes me happy?” “What am I even looking for?” It felt silly at first, like something you’d do in high school. But as I kept writing, it turned into something more.
I wrote down all the things I absolutely didn’t want. No more people who talked about their exes. No more superficial conversations. No more feeling like I had to be someone I wasn’t just to get a second date. And then, slowly, a list of what I did want started to form. It wasn’t about height or hair color, or even a specific job. It was about how I wanted to feel.
- I wanted someone who made me laugh, genuinely.
- I wanted someone who actually listened when I talked, not just waited for their turn to speak.
- I wanted a connection that felt easy, not like I was constantly trying to solve a puzzle.
- I wanted someone who was okay with my messy bits, and I was okay with theirs.
- And maybe most importantly, I realized I wanted someone who, when I was around them, made me feel more like myself, not less.
It sounds so obvious now, right? But back then, it was like a massive revelation. It was me finally taking a real look at my own heart and asking it, honestly, what it truly needed. Not what society told me it needed, or what my friends seemed to have. Just my heart.
Changing My Approach
After that, I made a conscious choice to pump the brakes on the casual dating scene. I wasn’t going to just jump into anything because it was convenient or because I felt like I “should” be dating. Instead, I started pouring that energy into myself. I picked up an old hobby I’d abandoned – painting. I started going for long walks, sometimes just listening to music, sometimes just in silence, just clearing my head.
I spent more time with friends who truly uplifted me. I started reading books again, not self-help stuff, just good old fiction that pulled me into other worlds. It was like I was re-filling my own cup, which had been pretty empty for a while. And let me tell you, when you’re not looking for someone else to make you feel complete, it changes everything.
When I did eventually start dating again, it was different. I found myself naturally gravitating towards people who aligned with what I’d figured out I actually wanted. I wasn’t scared to speak up if something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone; I was just being myself, quirks and all. And if someone didn’t like it, well, that was their prerogative, and it no longer felt like a personal failing on my part. It just meant we weren’t a match, and that was totally okay.
I realized my heart didn’t need a grand, dramatic romance to feel whole. It needed kindness, genuine connection, respect, and a whole lot of self-acceptance. It needed to be understood, yes, but first and foremost, it needed to understand itself.
It’s still a journey, obviously. Love stuff always is. But now, at least, I feel like I’m holding the right map. I know what my heart is asking for, and that makes all the difference.
