Started with Why
Kept wondering why love felt like chasing a damn bus. Every date went nowhere, every app swipe felt empty. Friends got married, had kids. Me? Just me and my sourdough starter. Thought real hard. Wrote down every damn failed fling, every ghosting, every awkward coffee meetup. Patterns jumped out like cockroaches when you turn the light on.
Facing the Ugly Stuff Head-On
No sugarcoating. Made a messy list right on my kitchen counter sticky notes while eating cold pizza:
- Reason 1: Kept picking broken people. Like my brain thought, “Oh yeah, this one smells like trouble – PERFECT!” Classic “fixer” mode. Chased emotionally unavailable zombies. Again. And again.
- Reason 2: Wall? What wall? Mine was Fort Knox. Pretended I didn’t care. Protected myself by acting too-cool-to-care. Pushed decent folks away with sarcasm or silence. Smooth move.
- Reason 3: My standards? Flip-flopped like cheap sandals. One minute, “Must love dogs and beekeeping!” Next minute, “Eh, breathing is enough.” Zero consistency. Settled for “meh” vibes way too often.
- Reason 4: Real talk? Wasn’t bringing my A-game. My life felt like reruns of sitcoms I hated. Work-eat-sleep. Nothing exciting to share. Couldn’t sell “myself” because honestly, I wasn’t proud of the product.
- Reason 5: Panic-dating. Rushed conversations like a ticking bomb. “Are we compatible? Huh? Huh? TELL ME NOW!” Scared off potential partners with my interview-mode interrogation. Chill was nonexistent.
Actually Doing Something About It
Tired of my own excuses. Stopped swiping first thing in the morning. Deleted apps cold turkey for two months. Instead:
- Signed up for a pottery class. Got covered in clay. Felt human again.
- Wrote down my actual “must-haves” and “deal-breakers”. Stuck it on the fridge. Real stuff like “respects my time”, “kind to servers”, not “has perfect hair”.
- Started journaling the boring stuff. Not “find love” crap. Just what made me laugh that day. Rediscovered myself bit by bit.
Sat with the loneliness. Didn’t run. Felt like hell sometimes. Ate sad noodles alone. But slowly, the desperate ache faded. Started enjoying my own damn company.
The Wake-Up Call Moment
Then BAM. That rainy Tuesday night leaving the grocery store, overloaded bags. Downpour. Plastic handles cut into my hands. Thought I’d die alone right there in the parking lot, crushed by avocados and cheap toilet paper. Spilled everything. Humiliation city. Just stood there soaked. This guy walking past saw the chaos, dropped his umbrella, grabbed half my bags without a word, walked me to my car. Just quiet help. Didn’t ask for my number. Didn’t even make it weird. Just… saw someone struggling and helped.
Hit me like a bag of wet cement. Realized my whole approach stank. I was searching for a fantasy partner while being a closed-off, messy, inconsistent wreck myself. Looking back? I’d have ghosted me.
Where It Stands Now
Still solo. But not desperately single. Huge difference. Not hiding behind sarcasm anymore. The pottery sucks less. Not dating actively, but actually looking people in the eye now. Not chasing broken things. Feels solid. The neediness faded once I stopped treating dating like a life-raft. Found quiet confidence instead of panic. Damn good start.
