Join the Tiny Buddha list Get 20 freebies including challenges, workbooks and more!
“You can’t make them love you. You can only reveal yourself and trust that the right person will love what you find.”
I found the unmarked door and stepped into a dimly lit room pulsating with that ‘Love Jones’ energy. Neo-soul played low, red lighting cast shadows on faces, and the bass line vibrated against my chest. It was the kind of place where real conversations took place.
I was nursing a cocktail when he appeared next to me. Dark eyes, an easy smile, the kind of presence that makes you sit up straighter. “What are you drinking?”
Within minutes, we moved beyond small talk into the deep stuff. Where we have been during our travels. What were our goals. What we really wanted. The conversation seemed adult. Deliberate.
When he asked for my number and offered his, my heart did something it hadn’t done in years. I walked out of that speaker.
The next day was Sunday – my reset. I didn’t expect to hear from him right away. By Wednesday, however, it was very quiet. Time flies when you are busy helping others and I have been busy all week.
I sent him a quick hello and let him know I enjoyed our conversation and look forward to hearing from him. He never called.
I was puzzled. He approached me. He asked for my number. What did I do wrong?
I pulled out my journal and replayed the night frame by frame. What did I ask him? About his career. His family. His dreams of the future. All the right open-ended questions to call someone and feel seen.
That’s when it hit me.
I am a high school counselor. I have a master’s degree and several years of experience working with teenagers and their families. People tell me that they are naturally attracted to me, that they feel safe enough to be vulnerable. My gift.
But that day I was in counseling mode. I was so focused on connecting with to him – to ask questions, to create safety, to create depth – who I never stopped asking myself: will to join that him?
I wasn’t fake. I was really… professional. And that was the problem.
This was not new. I thought back to other dates. The lawyer who talked about his divorce for forty minutes while I nodded empathetically. The teacher who shared her dreams of starting a nonprofit while I asked thoughtful questions. The musician who opened up about his complicated relationship with his father while I created space for his feelings.
I thought every date went well. But I never asked myself: was I attracted to them? Did their values match mine? Did I enjoy the conversation or did I just facilitate it?
I had no idea. Because I was too busy to be good at my job.
This worked in my office. It didn’t work on dates. I refused to go into it. I had to stop relying on my professional skills and start realizing what I really wanted.
I started reading Dare to love. Journaling at night. I listen to Louise Hay. Continuing my yoga practice. I wasn’t fake on dates, but I also didn’t know what I was looking for.
Once I realized what I liked about myself, I was able to articulate what I wanted in a partner. A true best friend who would hang out with me, support my dreams, and have dreams of their own. Someone who wouldn’t try to control me or make me lose myself.
I’ve been down this road before. I decided I’d rather be single than settle down.
So I had to work. Not to find a man, but to find me.
I took a close look at my past relationships. What I endured. Which I ignored. Which I gave up to keep the peace. It became painfully obvious: I was so focused on being chosen that I forgot I was choosing.
I gave myself grace. I didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, so I didn’t have a relationship template to refer to. I realized this self-love thing every single day as I lived it.
It wasn’t easy. But I knew that my person wouldn’t be knocking on my door while I was busy performing for strangers.
I started dating myself. I couldn’t wait to be asked to babysit. I planned to celebrate my own life.
I stopped accepting last-minute invitations. Someone who truly respected me plans ahead, doesn’t assume I’m sitting at home waiting to be chosen.
By changing my mindset from “being chosen” to “choosing” it gave me the confidence to ask different questions on dates. What were you listening to in your car? Are you open to marriage? do you want children I didn’t care if they thought I was too direct.
My online profile was honest about what I wanted while showing my personality – silly, bubbly, compassionate. When the relationship transitioned to a phone call, I voiced, “Hey, we’re both looking for our person. If you’re not comfortable—neither of us—let’s be respectful.”
Most people said they were fine with it. Some of you probably meant it.
For the first time, I decided to use my voice and set boundaries. And as hard as it was to say “no thanks,” I did.
I remember one date when we met for a drink after work. I didn’t date anymore – I don’t have to be stuck with the wrong person for so long. He was handsome. The conversation was good. But my gut knew this wasn’t a romantic match and I wasn’t looking for friends.
When he asked if he could walk me to my car, I said, “I’m actually having dinner at the bar.” He asked if I wanted company.
I said no.
The old man would have said yes out of politeness. New me ordered wine and savored every bite of my meal by myself. It was the first time I felt confident eating alone in public, and it was powerful.
I didn’t want to marry just anyone. I was looking for my person. And for that I had to put myself first.
I started trying new things on my own. I took a jewelry-making course at the community college—partly because I love jewelry, and partly because who knows where you might meet someone. It didn’t lead to love, but I did meet one of my best friends.
I purposely dated for months. Some guys were nice, but my guy wasn’t. Some of them showed themselves to be jerks within five minutes. I learned to walk away without guilt or explanation.
I was getting tired. But I promised myself: no arrangement. So I kept showing up.
Then there was Seth from Seattle. We texted for weeks after being matched online. He mentioned in his profile how much he loved “the PNW”. I had to look up what that meant – I thought it was something sexual. It meant the Pacific Northwest.
He was fun to talk to and made me laugh. Sometimes I kept quiet for days, but every time I answered, it felt easy. Natural. He remembered details of my life. He was vulnerable because of his past relationships. He could say what he wanted.
When he invited me to dinner a month earlier—he was coming to Arizona for a conference—I broke my drinks-only rule. Something felt different about him.
Dinner happened, and so did the clichés I rolled my eyes at. “You’ll know when you find out.” “It happens when you least expect it.” As soon as I got out of my car and saw him standing there, I felt it.
We sat next to each other in the restaurant, talked for hours, and I knew: I don’t have to make this assembly. We were on the same page without me making it easy to get there.
Before he flew home, I called him from my car. “I wanted to make sure you knew how much I liked you.” He said, “I like you too.”
This moment was not about being chosen. It was about having the courage to make a choice—and voicing it without acting or playing.
I was proud of myself. Not to find love, but to love myself first. Because he said no to what wasn’t right. Because I showed up as me – unpolished, underperforming, completely me.
I’ve learned that my professional strengths—connecting with people, creating safety, fostering vulnerability—can actually sabotage me when it comes to dating. I stepped on it without even noticing. Being authentic when listening. And that kept me from a real relationship.
After I got the job done, I took a different approach to dating. I didn’t go on dates hoping that he would like me. I went in hoping to see if we were aligned. And I trusted myself enough to leave when we weren’t.
Nothing comes easy. Think about your career, the goal you have achieved, the commitment you have kept. It took work. Daily effort. Intentional dating is no different.
If I could say anything to that woman in the speech, it would be this: Your professional knowledge is a gift. But on dates, they are armored. You can’t build real intimacy while you’re busy facilitating a pleasant conversation.
The right person won’t need to be good at networking. They will need you to be honest about whether you are in a relationship. And that requires showing up raw – unpolished, underperforming, welcome.
Stop listening. Start the election. The rest will follow.
About Gabriela Holt
After surviving domestic violence, Gabriela began her journey of self-love. Four years later, she met Seth. When breast cancer appeared three years into their relationship, self-choice became a daily practice, not just survival. Professional Certified Coach (PCC) and founder of Golden Hour Life Coaching, she helps high achievers stop acting out of love. She has appeared on the Finding the Unicorn in You podcast and at higher education conferences on resilience, and lives in Washington with Seth and Rookie. https://www.goldenhourlifecoaching.com/
