Psych Bites - Observe

Welcome to Psych Bites: Musings on the psychology of relationships and self-love, sprinkled with personal stories and experiences.

I want to raise some practical questions and share experiences that people may be able to relate to, enjoy or learn from. There will be posts about about sex, attachment theory, love, emotional addiction, trauma bonds, flirting, scarcity mindset and more.

Today’s Psych Bite is: Observe

In regards to dating, my grandmother told me to above all, observe. Observe everything he does. Don’t say anything—just watch. Observe everything, and that will tell you who he is.

And, that was exactly what I did. However, try as I might to be impartial, I was often distracted and addicted by my own feelings and seldom got to the heart of what I was really observing. My own feelings muddled the waters of observation, and the waves of emotional addiction superseded my observation efforts.

Practically speaking, that meant that if I arrived at a crossroads, for example, observing that according to a man’s actions, he didn’t seem to truly care about or prioritize me, my unhealthy emotional attachment would often win out over my logic, and instead of letting go, I would hold on even harder.

There’s one main character from my first book, Bad Boy Good Guy, that this scenario played out a lot with. The Naked Truth Poetry series is the real-life romance series of my dating adventures told in diary-style. I won’t say the character’s book name here, but it’s not difficult to figure out who I’m talking about.

At this point in the story, I had known him for a little while. We were both avid salsa and bachata dancers, so we saw each other around quite a bit in the dance scene. I had previously been crushing on other guys, but I had noticed this individual, and though I didn’t feel romantic attraction towards him, I found a certain warmth and coziness in his arms, and I loved dancing with him.

After the Sunday Social ended one evening, and we were all changing back into our street shoes, he came over to me and struck up on a conversation. And then, he asked, Would it be horribly awkward if I asked to connect with you on Facebook or exchange numbers?

I smiled and assured him that it would be no problem being Facebook friends since we had danced a lot.

“Right, it’s not like I’m a total stranger,” he said. “Though, you only know me from here.”

I was touched by his concern for me, and that just made me trust and appreciate him even more.

I typed my name into his phone, and he hit ‘add friend’, and then he shot me a smile and said, Now the ball’s in your court!

That last sentence was what confused me, and I thought about it all the way home.

What does he want me to do? I thought to myself. I agreed to be friends on Facebook, nothing else . . . What is he expecting?

I had sensed that he was interested in me for the last little while, so I assumed he was referring to something regarding dating. But again, what exactly did he expect me to do?

A few months later, our cozy dancing had turned into hot dancing, and he was stuck in my head like never before.

During one delightfully sexy night of dancing, he turned to me, arched an eyebrow and asked, Would it be awkward if I asked you out?

I didn’t notice it in the moment, but he had used the exact same kind of wording as before, making it more of a question rather than a statement, almost asking for my permission to ask me out, letting me in on his intentions in a very guarded and careful way.

Though I was incredibly attracted to him by now, I had my own emotional issues from childhood, which had both repressed and intensified my emotions, as well as filled me with fear. And while I liked him a lot, I was scared to accept. I was also taken off guard by the request, and I hesitated before replying.

“It wouldn’t be awkward . . . but I don’t know what I would say.”

He just gave me that gorgeous smile that I was afraid of falling in love with and said, Think about it.

Try as I might to stay away from him, the emotional dependency that I had centered around him was whirling in my head like a tornado, and I finally decided to let him make a move, despite my fear. Too nervous to do it myself, I told him that he should ask me out again.

I had never actively shown an interest in a guy before, and I didn’t want to come across as desperate or clingy. It would be years before I finally learned to become aware of and then share my feelings in an open, honest and healthy way.

As for him and I—we never ended up going on that date.

Months later, we were both out dancing again. I was about to leave for my first Europe trip, and though I announced to the news to him during our dance, he made no comment on it. I hadn’t seen him for weeks, and I felt as if he were avoiding me, which had made me feel as if I were dying inside. I was starving for him, for his touch, for his words, for something more than this lonely no-man’s-land that I had trapped us in.

We danced sexy-close, and he brushed back my hair from my face. A thrill ran down my spine, and I felt the desire beaming off him. I could tell that he was frustrated with our situation, so close to diving in but not quite. It was clear that he wanted in, or he wanted out. Part of me wondered if that meant he just wanted me for my body.

As we twirled to the bachata beat, he looked at me, cocked and eyebrow and asked, Did you say I should ask you out again?

Again, rather than coming out and saying something direct such as, I’d still love to go out with you, or I’ve been thinking about us a lot—how about I take you out for dinner tomorrow, and we can chat about your upcoming trip?, he was putting the emphasis on me, making it about what I wanted rather than what he wanted.

To be clear, I’m not saying that he did anything wrong. I often talked in questions and suggestions myself, but mostly because I was too shy or scared to come out and share what I really wanted or how I felt. I’m sharing this story to demonstrate a faint yet clear indicator of what was to come and how it completely went over my head. He showed me from the beginning that he wasn’t emotionally upfront, and neither was I. And that twisted us up more than anything else.

We eventually did start dating, a casual on-again-on-again no-strings situationship. Despite the many other problems and dealbreakers that coexisted with our passion, hot-dancing and off-the-wall chemistry, the thing that broke me was the fact that I didn’t feel like he wanted to share how he felt. I felt insecure about if he wanted me or if he just wanted sex. I felt used. I felt crazy for still caring so deeply for a man who didn’t seem to want to risk putting any effort into me at all. And the more I tried to reach out to him emotionally, the less he seemed to respond.

Observe. That was what my grandmother had said. The root of all of our problems was this, and I had seen it, many times. But I had looked past it, this emotionally skittishness. I had ignored it. I had chose my addicted emotions over my intuition, the fact that I knew that he didn’t care about me enough, and he certainly wasn’t showing it in the way I needed him to. And yet, I continued to feed the emotional addiction that bound me to him.

I didn’t know that I had the choice to stop feeding it, to break its power. I didn’t know it was addiction, and I didn’t know how to stop it. But emotional addiction is a post for another day. The point of this post is, I thought I knew how to observe, but I didn’t. I was too biased towards my feelings. I was too desperate connection.

In comparison, a different character, who comes in later on in the series, was direct and emotionally expressive from the start. After meeting at a salsa and bachata place and sharing a hot, tipsy Friday night dance session together, we texted back and forth all weekend.

The very next day, he asked me out over text, Hey pretty dancer, what do you think about getting together tomorrow for drinks, and I’ll show you around the city?

I was flattered by his invitation and intrigued by his character, and with the memory of our steamy dancing night, I was curious to have a real conversation with him to find out more about who he was. However, I already had plans for the next few nights. In my responding text, I didn’t mention that I had several different chill-outs with two different guys I was casually seeing. I was currently dating anyone that I wanted, even though I didn’t really care about any of them. I was trying to live in the moment, trying to free myself from the pain and heartbreak of the past.

I suggested meeting on Wednesday instead, since I would have more time and be more rested.

This man was a prompt and consistent texter, a world of difference from what I was used to.

Great, we can walk around the city and then have dinner, he said, and that led to our first official date where we both shared our hearts, how we felt and what we wanted.

The difference between the approaches that each man took was palpable. With the first, I was left second-guessing, since his words sounded natural, but upon revisiting them in my mind, I sensed that something had seemed a little ‘off’. On multiple occasions, I was left wondering if he really did want to meet up and talk or if he were merely agreeing to appease me. He was rarely if ever transparent or shared how he felt or what he wanted, and I was left in the dark, trying to make sense of what we had or didn’t have.

I myself was by no means a stellar communicator, emotions-wise, and I never explained my fear to him, which made my own behaviour seem hot and cold and sporadic. We both hurt each other, missed each other and went in circles, never learning how to make things better.

On the other hand, the direct approach by the second man was a breath of fresh air. He made me feel safe and taken care of. He left me with no questions as to what his motivations were because I felt prioritized and taken care of from the start. He never left me hanging, communication-wise or on any other level. And rather than getting addicted to him through dance and unhealed emotional attachment issues, I grew to deeply trust and respect him due to his character and his actions.

This is the difference between being direct and trying to play things safe.

This is what it means to understand who someone is, just by watching what they do.

This is the power of observation.