'Date, Me.'

Why do I keep dating the same people?

After the heavy breakup, I kissed some more frogs (sorry, frogs).

(And that's what I have been doing—dating and mourning—instead of writing my next lesbian novel.)

I basically unlearned most of my self-love lessons and now have to relearn them.

At some point, I thought I might get another solid offer for a relationship, but nope, it was just another situationship.

I admit, I definitely pushed myself out there way too early.

But then, I also realised my own dating patterns and the people I attracted were in a loop.

Every single one of my dates was confused, emotionally unavailable (no matter how available they seemed), and unstable.

I had the exact same conversation with four ex-dates, about how they were just too busy right now, how they felt like they were not ready for anything serious because they still needed to figure things out.

The universe had been trying to tell me something for a long time, and I think this time, I finally listened.

Don't get me wrong; I'm still feeling drawn to those who, by their looks, I know to be bad news, but I think this is the time to mark my boundaries clearly.

I talked about patterns a lot because the reason why things become a pattern is not solely out of unawareness, it's because they are hard to quit.

Taking myself as an example, I am fully aware of my own dating patterns—I am happy and content when being single, then I become an obsessive mess when I am with someone—yet it doesn't stop it from happening because that was all I knew about loving someone.

You gave it your all, your best shot.

Or perhaps the TV shows I watched as a teen romanticise the painful courtship way too much that I thought love was about sacrifices.

I thought if I were sincere enough and tried hard enough, it'd be appreciated and reciprocated.

But that simply wasn't the case.

It can be so simple—two people falling in love and sticking together through highs and lows. But the reality in this society is that we give it three dates and give up.

Those ex-dates always said it wasn't me, I was great, it was them, their unreadiness.

I always know it's not about me when they cut things off.

Yet, over time, it still got to me.

I wondered if I wasn't good enough, if I was too much.

In a way, I guess I was too much. I was committed way too early—two months in, and I was dying to know if they wanted to be exclusive with me.

I learned that it puts people off. Hell, it even puts me off when I imagine someone else being so committed to me in the early stage of dating.

Then, I started to contemplate why I felt the need to know if someone wanted to potentially be in a relationship with me.

It's about a sense of security.

I want that reassurance of always having someone to turn to, someone to share stupid memes with, someone to ask out.

Yet, I forget that I actually have friends who are down to hang out with me.

Most importantly, I forget that I cannot seek that sense of security from anyone else but myself.

I'd be forever insecure and anxious if I expected the person I dated to give me that.

I am still dealing with and learning to overcome this unrealistic expectation.

I don't think I have an answer for the cure yet.

I've tried practising gratitude, going on nature retreats, reading tarot cards, doing breath work, and moaning to friends and spirits about it...

None of them stopped my raging mind from overthinking effectively.

Perhaps it has to take a few lifetimes, like in the film Timestalker (a very interesting dark comedy), for us to finally learn the lesson and break the cycle. Or perhaps, when we break one cycle, the other one begins.

Endlessly.

It sounds all very dooming, and it might as well be, but that's not the purpose of this chapter.

Again, it all goes back to ourselves—as selfish and egoistic as that sounds.

Just think of it this way—in an Ace of Cups metaphor—if you have nothing in your cup, how do you expect yourself to share any water with others?

Or, like all therapists would hope, in an ideal world, everyone deals with their own trauma first, and there will be far fewer hurt people.

So, here's another invitation: Join my quest to create a new cycle, one that actually brings happiness and inner peace.