I Know How I Feel. I’m Still Learning How to Share It

I’ve been thinking about why dating never seems to work out for me. Not in a self-pity way. Just trying to understand it.

I meet women who seem interested. We talk. We go on a date. Sometimes two. They say I’m kind, thoughtful, smart. That I’m someone they could see themselves with. But before it really goes anywhere, they start pulling away.

Sometimes they say we’re not as compatible as they first thought. Sometimes they ghost. A few have been honest. One woman told me, “I’m trying to connect with you emotionally, but I can’t.” She said I was too formal. Too serious. That I talked a lot, but in a way that made her feel farther, not closer.

That stayed with me.

Another said I seemed nervous. One joked that I was a “yapper.” And one woman I saw more than twice looked at me during a walk and asked, “What makes you smile?” Her tone wasn’t accusing it was curious. She told me I came across as stoic.

And they were all saying the same thing.

I thought I was being myself. And I was, in a way. But the version of me that shows up on dates? That version is composed. Careful. Polished. I talk like I’m in a meeting. I think before I speak. I ask good questions. But I don’t always show how I feel. I explain instead of express. I write well, but that doesn’t always translate when I’m sitting across from someone.

I once found a forum post where a woman talked about a guy who texted her long, thoughtful messages. She liked it at first. But then it started to feel tiring. Like the conversation never moved past surface-level niceness. She said it felt like an interview, not a connection. I sent that post to the last woman I dated. She said, ..."that sounds a lot like you.”

And it clicked.

I’ve always considered myself emotionally available. I care deeply. I reflect. I listen. But I’m not always expressive in ways that make people feel safe, relaxed, or excited to get closer. I hold my feelings close. I process them inward. And when the moment calls for openness, I reach for explanation instead of presence.

The people I’ve dated aren’t wrong. I’m not cold. But I don’t make space for intimacy to unfold. I don’t flirt. I rarely let silence settle. I stay in my head. By the time I remember to laugh or lean in or just be, it’s already too late. The spark didn’t catch.

And the truth is, I am funny. I’m playful. My friends know that side of me. But somehow, I forget how to access it when romance is involved. Maybe because I want to be respectful. Maybe because I’m scared of being misunderstood. Or maybe because I’ve never practiced opening up in the moment without writing it out first.

One woman told me I shouldn’t change for her. That someone else will appreciate me for who I am. And I agree. But I’m not trying to become someone I’m not. I’m trying to let more of me show. The full me. The me that doesn’t need a script. The me who can let connection happen without narrating every beat of it.

What I want now is something real. Not curated. Not perfect. Just honest. Warm. Alive.

Right now, I’m taking a break. Not because I’ve given up on dating, but because I need time to let go of someone I genuinely liked. I know she’s not coming back. But she gave me something I’ll carry forward: clarity. She didn’t just disappear, she told me what wasn’t working. And for the first time, I saw it too.

It wasn’t timing. Or compatibility. It was me not making space for closeness. Not on purpose. Not because I didn’t care. But because I hadn’t learned how to open that part of myself in real time. And now I have to sit with what that cost me.

She also helped me see something else I hadn’t admitted out loud before: I’m drawn to women who are tall, athletic, and carry themselves with strength. I used to feel weird naming that. But now I just accept it. It’s not everything but it matters.

So for now, I’m quiet. Not retreating. Just healing. Letting it settle. I want to move forward slowly, with more awareness. I want to hold onto the lessons, not just the loss. Because this time, I don’t want to walk away unchanged.

And when I do show up again, I want to be more than the polished version of myself.

I want to be someone a woman can actually feel.