It's Not You, Its Me... I Think

Now that I’m dipping my toes back into the dating world, I find myself unusually curious about the logistics of it all — the timing, the pacing, and most of all, the intentions. Mine, theirs, everyone’s.

Not because I assume everyone has bad intentions (that would be awfully cynical of me), or because I’m looking to dissect every connection. It’s just hard not to wonder how often two people enter something wanting entirely different things… and how long it takes before that truth inevitably hurts someone.

Which brings me to the age-old question: is it love, lust, or like? And do the three really exist separately, or are they always tangled together in a messy knot we spend months trying to unravel?

I can enjoy spending time with someone. I can even want them in a physical sense. But it takes me a long time to truly love someone (or maybe everyone else is just saying it so fast). So what happens when the person across from me drops the L-word, and I’m not there yet? Is it more cruel to lie and say it back — hoping I’ll eventually mean it — or to tell the truth and risk hurting them in the moment? In turn, would I rather someone lie to spare my feelings or tell me honestly and hurt them?

And here’s a bigger question: can we have lust without emotion? To sleep with someone regularly, there has to be some level of liking them… right? Or can lust live entirely on its own island, untouched by deeper feelings?

It was sobering to realize that, in most of my past relationships, the pace was set by the other person. I’ve never been the first to say “I love you.” I’ve never asked anyone out. I’ve always just… gone along with it. Said the words back because it seemed easier than being honest. Until now.

That realization pushed me to ask why I’ve felt so much pressure to confirm feelings I didn’t have yet. And now, stepping back into dating, I catch myself wondering: am I about to make the same mistake? Will I dismiss my own instincts just to keep up with someone else’s speed?

I’ve always told myself I “learn” from each breakup. But how much am I actually carrying into the next chapter? Am I truly evolving, or am I walking the same circle, aware of the pattern but unwilling to break it?

When it comes to business, there’s a common mantra: Just start, and figure out the rest later. I’m starting to think I’ve applied that same logic to relationships. Just start, and maybe the love will follow. But isn’t that disrespectful to myself? Doesn’t it rob me of the chance to find out what I actually feel before committing to someone else’s vision of “us”?

We all deserve to enter — or avoid — a relationship with our feelings and intentions clearly on the table. Theirs and ours.

So I ask myself: what do I really want from someone? And just as importantly: what do they truly want from me? Because in a dating culture that’s fast, performative, and often murky, it’s harder than ever to believe in pure intentions, openness, and honesty.

I’ll admit, some days I can’t even picture being in another relationship. Too many have ended poorly, leaving me to wonder if my lack of steadiness early on was part of the reason. Maybe it’s not just the people I’ve chosen, but the way I’ve shown up from the start.

How often do we say we feel something simply because someone says it to us first? And is it more selfish to lie in the name of comfort, or to tell the truth and risk the fallout? Which one causes more harm in the long run?

Let’s face it — dating is hard. It can pull you in and push you out. It can crack you open and then slam the door shut. It will challenge you, frustrate you, and force you to make choices you’d rather avoid. Sometimes you’ll get them wrong. Sometimes you’ll get them right. But if you’re paying attention, dating will teach you more about yourself than about anyone else.