Have you ever found yourself in a social situation, perfectly capable of navigating conversations, making others feel at ease, yet feeling strangely disconnected from your own desires? It’s a common paradox, especially in dating. For years, I approached relationships like a skilled professional, expertly facilitating connection, only to realize I was missing the most crucial ingredient: myself. The turning point came when I stopped trying to be chosen and instead focused on authentically choosing a partner aligned with my true self. This shift wasn't easy, but it ultimately led me to the profound connection I had always sought.
The Unseen Performance: When Professionalism Sabotages Personal Connection
The speakeasy pulsed with a soulful rhythm, a perfect backdrop for genuine connection. I was there, cocktail in hand, when he appeared—dark eyes, an easy smile, and a presence that made you want to lean in. Our conversation quickly moved beyond surface pleasantries, delving into life journeys, aspirations, and core desires. It felt adult, intentional. When he asked for my number, my heart did that fluttery thing it hadn't done in years. I left floating.
But the silence that followed was deafening. By Wednesday, a quick "hello" text from me went unanswered. I was baffled. He initiated, he asked for my number—what had gone wrong? Replaying the night, I realized my expertise had become my Achilles’ heel. As a high school counselor with a master’s degree, I excel at building rapport, making people feel safe enough to be vulnerable. It’s a gift, yet on that date, I was operating in full "counselor mode."
I was so adept at asking open-ended questions, creating a safe space, and facilitating depth that I forgot to ask myself: Do I even want to connect to him? I wasn't being fake; I was being authentically professional. And that, I discovered, was the problem. This wasn't an isolated incident. I recalled other dates: the lawyer detailing his divorce, the teacher sharing nonprofit dreams, the musician discussing his complex family. Each time, I’d nodded empathetically, asked thoughtful follow-ups, and created space. I’d walked away thinking the dates went well, but never once had I asked if I was attracted, if our values aligned, or if I actually enjoyed the conversation, rather than just facilitating it. I had no idea because I was too busy being good at my "job."
“You can’t perform your way into being loved. You can only reveal yourself and trust that the right person will love what they find.”
This dynamic, where our inherent strengths can inadvertently create barriers in personal relationships, is a fascinating aspect of human psychology. We often lean on what we know works, even when the context demands something different (University of California, 2023). On dates, my professional skills were armor, preventing me from showing up raw and vulnerable. I realized I needed to stop leaning into my professional skills and start getting real about what I actually wanted. It meant I stopped trying to perform my way into connection and started seeking genuine alignment.
Reclaiming My Choices: The Journey to Self-Alignment
This realization sparked a profound shift. I began a dedicated journey of self-discovery, diving into books like Loving Bravely, journaling nightly, and deepening my yoga practice. The goal wasn't to find a man, but to find me. I had been authentically professional, but I didn’t truly know what I was looking for, because I hadn't truly looked inward.
The real work began by taking a hard look at past relationships. What had I tolerated? What had I ignored? What had I given up to keep the peace? It became painfully clear: I’d been so focused on being chosen that I’d forgotten I was also doing the choosing. This insight, often central to developing secure attachment, highlights the importance of recognizing our own agency in relationships (Harvard Health, 2024). I gave myself grace, acknowledging that without a clear relationship template from my upbringing, I was learning self-love every single day.
I understood that my ideal partner wouldn't simply appear while I was busy performing for strangers. So, I started dating myself. I dressed up for my own enjoyment, celebrated my own milestones, and made plans that delighted me, not just to fill a calendar slot. I stopped trying to accept last-minute invites, understanding that someone who truly respected me would plan ahead, not assume I was sitting home waiting to be picked. This wasn't about being aloof; it was about honoring my time and value. Think about it: when you value your own time, others tend to follow suit.
Shifting my mindset from "being chosen" to "choosing" gave me the confidence to ask different questions on dates. "What music are you listening to these days?" "Are you open to marriage?" "Do you want kids?" I didn’t care if they thought I was too direct. My online profile became a genuine reflection of my silly, bubbly, compassionate self, clearly articulating what I sought. When a connection moved to a phone call, I’d set the tone: "Hey, we’re both looking for our person. If it doesn’t feel right for either of us, let’s call it respectfully." Most agreed, some probably even meant it. For the first time, I was choosing to use my voice and set boundaries. As difficult as it was to say "no thank you," I did it.
Dating with Intention: Honoring My Boundaries
One evening, I met someone for drinks after work. I’d stopped doing dinner dates—no need to be stuck with the wrong person for that long. He was handsome, and the conversation was pleasant enough. But my gut knew this wasn’t a romantic match, and I wasn't looking for new friends. When he asked if he could walk me to my car, I politely declined, explaining I was grabbing dinner at the bar. He asked if I wanted company. My response was a clear, "No, thank you."
The old me would have said yes out of politeness, enduring an uncomfortable meal. The new me ordered wine and savored every bite alone. This was the first time I’d felt confident eating by myself in public, and it felt incredibly powerful. It was a tangible expression of putting myself first, a crucial step in building self-respect and establishing healthy boundaries (Mayo Clinic, 2023). I wasn't looking to marry just anyone; I was looking for my person. And that required fierce self-advocacy.
I also started exploring new things alone, purely for my own enjoyment. I took a jewelry-making class at the community college—partly because I love jewelry, partly because who knows where serendipity might strike. It didn’t lead to love, but it did lead to one of my now-best friends. This period of intentional dating meant meeting many guys who were nice but not my guy, and some who revealed their true colors within minutes. I stopped trying to justify or explain myself, learning to walk away without guilt. It was exhausting, but I’d made a promise: no settling. So, I kept showing up, authentically and with purpose.
Think about a time you’ve settled for something less than ideal—a job, a friendship, a meal. The lingering dissatisfaction often outweighs the temporary comfort. Applying this to relationships means holding out for genuine alignment, not just convenience or perceived scarcity. It’s a practice in self-trust.
The Unscripted Connection: When Choosing Leads to Love
Then, Seth from Seattle entered the picture. We’d been texting for weeks after matching online. His profile mentioned loving "the PNW"—which I initially, and humorously, thought might be something sexual before a quick Google search clarified "Pacific Northwest." He was genuinely funny and remembered details about my life. He was vulnerable about his past, and crucially, he could articulate what he wanted in a partner. Sometimes, I’d go silent for days, caught up in life, but every time I responded, the connection felt easy, natural. There was no performance required.
When he invited me to dinner a month in advance—he was coming to Arizona for a conference—I broke my "drinks-only" first date rule. Something about him felt different. Dinner happened, and with it, all those clichés I’d previously rolled my eyes at. "You’ll know when you know." "It happens when you least expect it." The moment I got out of my car and saw him, I felt it. We sat side by side, talked for hours, and I knew: this was alignment I didn’t have to manufacture. We were on the same page without me having to facilitate us getting there.
Before he flew home, I called him. "I wanted to make sure you know how much I like you." He reciprocated. That moment wasn’t about being chosen; it was about having the courage to choose and to voice it without performing or playing games. I was proud of myself, not just for finding love, but for doing the deep, often uncomfortable work to love myself first. For saying no to what didn’t align. For showing up as me—unpolished, unperforming, utterly myself. I stopped trying to pretend I was someone else, and that's when real connection blossomed.
My professional strengths—connecting, creating safety, facilitating vulnerability—had unknowingly sabotaged my dating life. I’d been performing while still auditioning, which blocked genuine intimacy. Once I did the work, I approached dating not hoping he’d like me, but hoping to discover if we were aligned. And I trusted myself enough to walk away when we weren't. Nothing truly worthwhile comes without effort. Whether it's a career goal or a personal commitment, it demands daily intention. Dating with purpose is no different.
If I could tell that woman in the speakeasy anything, it would be this: Your professional skills are gifts, but on dates, they can be armor. You can’t build real intimacy while you’re busy facilitating a nice conversation. The right person won’t need you to be good at connecting; they’ll need you to be honest about whether you are connected. And that requires showing up raw—unpolished, unperforming, willing to be seen. Stop auditioning. Start choosing. The rest, truly, will follow.
