“How Releasing the Desire to Be Selected Guided Me to Genuine Love”

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“You can’t perform your way into being cherished. You can only unveil yourself and trust that the right individual will appreciate what they discover.”

Discovering the unmarked doorway, I entered a softly lit space throbbing with that “Love Jones” vibe. Neo-soul music played softly, red lights cast shadows on faces, and the bass resonated through my chest. This was a venue where genuine conversations took place.

I was sipping a cocktail when he showed up next to me. Dark eyes, effortless smile, the sort of presence that compels you to sit up straighter. “What are you drinking?”

In mere minutes, we had bypassed small talk and delved into deeper subjects. Where we stood in our journeys. What our ambitions were. What we sincerely desired. The discussion felt mature. Purposeful.

When he requested my number and shared his, my heart did something it hadn’t experienced in years. I exited that speakeasy in a state of bliss.

The following day was Sunday—my day for resetting. I didn’t anticipate hearing from him right away. But by Wednesday, the silence was profound. Time flies when you’re engaged in helping others, and I had been busy all week.

I sent him a brief message, letting him know I appreciated our conversation and looked forward to hearing from him. He never reached out.

I was perplexed. He came to me. He asked for my number. What had I done wrong?

I opened my journal and replayed the night scene by scene. What questions had I posed? About his career. His family. His aspirations for the future. All the right open-ended inquiries to encourage someone to open up and feel acknowledged.

That’s when it struck me.

I’m a high school counselor. I hold a master’s degree and have years of experience building rapport with adolescents and their families. People say they’re naturally attracted to me, that I create a safe space for vulnerability. It’s my strength.

But during that date, I had been in counselor mode. I was so centered on connecting with him—asking questions, ensuring safety, enabling depth—that I never paused to ask myself: Do I even want to connect to him?

I wasn’t being insincere. I was being genuinely… professional. And therein lay the issue.

This wasn’t a new pattern. I reminisced about previous dates. The lawyer who discussed his divorce for forty minutes while I nodded with empathy. The teacher who spoke of his nonprofit dreams while I asked insightful follow-up questions. The musician who shared his complex relationship with his father while I held space for his emotions.

I walked away from each date believing it had gone well. But I had never once questioned: Was I attracted to them? Did our values align? Did I find joy in the conversation, or was I simply facilitating it?

I was oblivious. Because I was too busy excelling at my job.

This approach worked in my office. It didn’t succeed on dates. I wasn’t clocking in. I needed to stop relying on my professional skills and start confronting what I truly desired.

I began reading Loving Bravely. Journaling every night. Listening to Louise Hay. Continuing my yoga practice. I was not being false on dates, but I lost sight of what I was seeking.

Once I discerned what I loved about myself, I could articulate what I wanted in a partner. A true best friend who would spend time with me, support my aspirations, and have ambitions of his own. Someone who wouldn’t attempt to control me or cause me to lose my identity.

I had traveled that road before. I resolved that I would prefer to remain single than to settle.

So I got to work. Not on finding a partner—on discovering myself.

I examined my past relationships. What I had endured. What I had overlooked. What I had sacrificed for the sake of tranquility. It became painfully clear: I had been so focused on being chosen that I overlooked my own choice.

I granted myself compassion. I didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, so I lacked a relationship model to refer to. I was navigating this self-love journey as I experienced it, every single day.

It wasn’t simple. But I understood that my person wasn’t going to show up at my door while I was preoccupied performing for strangers.

I started dating myself. I didn’t wait for someone to ask me out to get dressed up. I made plans to celebrate my own life.

I stopped accepting last-minute invitations. Someone who genuinely respected me would plan ahead, not assume I was home waiting to be chosen.

Shifting my mindset from “being chosen” to “choosing” instilled the confidence to ask different questions on dates. What have you been listening to in your car? Are you open to marriage? Do you want children? I didn’t care if they thought I was too forward.

My online profile was candid about what I wanted while still showcasing my personality—quirky, lively, compassionate. When a connection progressed 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 respectfully call it.”

Most said they were okay with that. Some probably even meant it.

For the first time, I was choosing to express my voice and establish boundaries. And as challenging as it was to say “no thank you,” I did it.

I recall one date where we met for drinks post-work. I no longer did dinner dates—no reason to be stuck with the wrong person for that long. He was attractive. The conversation was adequate. But my intuition knew this wasn’t a romantic fit, and I wasn’t seeking friends.

When he inquired if he could walk me to my car, I replied, “I’m actually heading to grab dinner at the bar.” He asked if I wanted company.

I declined.

The old version of me would have said yes out of courtesy. The new me ordered wine and relished every morsel of my meal alone. This was the first time I felt confident dining solo in public, and it was empowering.

I wasn’t searching to marry just anyone. I was searching for my person. And that meant prioritizing myself.

I began exploring new activities alone. I enrolled in a jewelry-making course at the community college—partially because I adore jewelry, partially because who knows where you might meet someone. It didn’t lead to romance, but I did meet one of my now-best friends.

For months, I dated with intention. Some men were kind but not right for me. Some revealed their true colors as jerks within minutes. I learned to exit without guilt or justification.

I was growing weary. But I had made a promise to myself: no settling. So I kept showing up.

Then there was Seth from Seattle. We had been texting for weeks after matching online. His profile mentioned his love for “the PNW.” I had to look up what that signified—I thought it might be something racy. It stood for Pacific Northwest.

He was enjoyable to converse with and made me laugh. Sometimes I’d go silent for days, but every time I responded, it felt effortless. Natural. He remembered aspects of my life. He was open about his past relationships. He could express what he wanted.

When he invited me to dinner a month in advance—he was coming to Arizona for a conference—I broke my drinks-only rule. Something about him felt distinct.

The dinner occurred, and so did all those clichés I had scoffed at. “You’ll know when you know.” “It happens when you least expect it.” The moment I stepped out of my car and spotted him waiting there, I felt it.

We sat side by side in the restaurant, talked for hours, and I understood: this was alignment I didn’t have to manufacture. We were on the same wavelength without my needing to facilitate the connection.

Before he returned home, I called him from my car. “I wanted to ensure you know how much I like you.” He replied, “I like you too.”

That moment wasn’t about being selected. It was about summoning the courage to choose—and to articulate it without performing or engaging in games.

I felt pride in myself. Not for discovering love, but for the effort I put into loving myself first. For declining what didn’t resonate. For presenting myself as I am—unrefined, unperforming, completely authentic.

I had come to understand that my professional abilities—connecting with individuals, establishing safety, facilitating vulnerability—could actually hinder me in the dating realm. I had been performing without realizing it. Being genuine while still auditioning. And that obstructed me from forming authentic connections.

Once I committed to the work, I approached dating differently. I didn’t enter dates hoping he’d like me. I entered with the intent of discerning if we were aligned. And I trusted myself enough to walk away when we weren’t.

Nothing worthwhile comes easily. Reflect on your job, that achievement you accomplished, that commitment you upheld. It required effort. Daily dedication. Dating with intention is no exception.

If I could share anything with that woman in the speakeasy, it would be this: Your professional abilities are precious. But on dates, they act as armor. You can’t cultivate true intimacy while you’re busy orchestrating a pleasant conversation.

The right person won’t need you to excel at connecting. They’ll need you to be honest about whether you’re truly connected. And that calls for showing up in your raw state—unrefined, unperforming, ready to be seen.

Cease auditioning. Begin choosing. The rest will naturally follow.

**How Releasing the Urge to Be Chosen Led Me to Genuine Love**

On the journey of love, numerous individuals find themselves trapped in a cycle of seeking validation and acceptance from others. The desire to be chosen can frequently eclipse the pursuit of authentic connection, resulting in heartache and dissatisfaction. However, relinquishing this need can unveil the path to genuine love and deeper relationships.

**Recognizing the Need to Be Chosen**

The longing to be chosen often originates from insecurities and societal expectations. From an early age, many are conditioned to believe that being selected or desired by others equates to self-worth. This mindset can manifest in romantic connections, where individuals may cling to partners who do not reciprocate their feelings or treat them poorly, driven by their fear of rejection or solitude.

**The Turning Point**

For many, the realization that the need to be chosen is harmful comes after a series of unsatisfying relationships. It was during a particularly challenging breakup that I began to reflect on my patterns. I recognized that my happiness hinged on someone else’s choice, leaving me feeling powerless and unworthy. This realization marked a pivotal moment in my life.

**Embracing Self-Love**

Letting go of the necessity to be chosen required delving deeply into self-love and acceptance. I redirected my focus on my own interests, passions, and values, rather than seeking validation from potential partners. This shift in perspective fostered a sense of worthiness that was independent of external approval. I learned to cherish my own company and celebrate my uniqueness.

**Establishing Healthy Boundaries**

As I embraced self-love, I also began to establish healthy boundaries in my relationships. I realized that true love encompasses mutual respect and understanding, rather than a one-sided desire to be chosen. By prioritizing my own needs and feelings, I attracted individuals who esteemed me for who I was, not for what I could offer them.

**Attracting Genuine Love**

With a renewed sense of self-worth, I approached the dating landscape with a transformed mindset. I was no longer desperate for someone to choose me; instead, I sought relationships that felt authentic and fulfilling. This shift allowed me to engage with potential partners from a place of confidence and openness, not from fear and insecurity.

Eventually, I met someone who appreciated me for my true self. Our relationship flourished not from a need to be chosen, but from a shared desire to grow together. We supported each other’s dreams, communicated transparently, and celebrated our individuality. This partnership embodied a true union, founded on respect and love rather than dependence.

**Conclusion**

Releasing the need to be chosen revolutionized my approach to love and relationships. By centering on self-love, establishing healthy boundaries, and attracting partners who valued my true self, I uncovered a deeper, more satisfying connection. Genuine love thrives when both individuals unite as complete, secure beings, rather than seeking completion in one another. Embracing this journey has not only led me to authentic love but has also enriched my life in innumerable ways.