The Moment I Realized Hope Isn’t the Same as a Pattern

Recently I had a moment with someone that stuck with me longer than I expected.

H​e was a dreamboat. 

And the annoying part is, nothing dramatic even happened. We just talked. For about an hour. It was easy and natural and full of dumb jokes — the kind of conversation where you forget about everything else for a bit.

I think the reason I felt hopeful is because I connect with so few guys at this age. ​I'm a solid 37. When you meet someone close to your age who seems to understand the same kinds of experiences, it feels rare. So when the signals feel mutual, you assume something meaningful might be there.

And honestly, I just enjoyed talking to him.

But then the pattern didn’t continue.

And when I realized he probably wasn’t going to reach out again, I felt a little gutted. I thought maybe he had liked talking to me too. I imagined more conversations, more jokes, more moments like that one hour we shared.

The thing I’ve learned about myself is that my brain moves fast. Really fast.

I’ve always been incredibly creative, and my thoughts feel like a raging river that generates thousands of possibilities in seconds. It’s a gift in a lot of areas of life. It helps me build ideas, create projects, and imagine things that don’t exist yet.

But when I meet someone I’m excited about, that same creativity can become overwhelming.

I can imagine a thousand timelines. A thousand different ways a relationship could unfold. And if I’m not careful, I start trying to choose the one where I win.

That’s where things get messy​ because then I work really hard to coerce the Universe into giving me what I think I deserve. Bahaha. That's a whole other chapter to yap about. 

​The problem however, is one of my best friends​, years ago, told me something that stuck with me. She said love is basically a complete crapshoot. Finding someone is often just timing and luck and circumstance.

I think over ​t​he course of my life I’ve been slowly learning how to accept that.

My job isn’t to control the outcome.

My job is just to show up.

To be present. To talk to people. To put myself in the room where connection might happen. And then ​to​ just let go of trying to force the next chapter.

That’s the difference between observing someone and hoping for a pattern.

Observation feels calm. You notice who engages with you and how they show up. You pay attention to the signals without trying to write the whole story.

Hope​ without kindness towards yourself, on the other hand, can make you start building a future that doesn’t exist yet.

And I’ve realized something else along the way.

Maybe relationships aren’t meant to look like two people running the same marathon together. Maybe sometimes they’re just someone cheering you on while you run your own race.

Maybe the real goal is to build a life where you feel the most free and then let people meet you there.

The biggest lesson I’ve had to learn, again and again​ and again, is that I have to hold myself in the most precious place in my own heart.

Not because other people can’t love me.

But because if I keep sacrificing pieces of myself hoping someone will love me back, I’m not actually being kind to them or to myself. That kind of giving isn’t real generosity. It’s just disguised desperation.

And that space creates more pain than love.

So the real work, for me, is learning to care about someone without losing myself in the story of what it could become.

That’s the practice.

Show up.

Be present.

Enjoy the moment.

And then let the river keep flowing.

Live Soft & Boldly Brave.

— Dain

If this piece stayed with you, there’s more where that came from. Stay a while there is more below.

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