Ignoring Pink Flags
Trust lies within ourselves.
For me, dating is a necessary evil and on a rare occasion, it can be enjoyable. Meeting new people satisfies my curious mind, as I learn something about myself, others and relationships in the process. I curate my dating pool with care, cautiously sifting through the candidates trying to identify the players, and weirdos from the genuine nice guys. Although I have yet to meet my true soulmate, I've met some nice men, most of whom I now call friends despite the fact that they weren’t “the one.” Due to my rigorous screening, I don’t date frequently, but rather mindfully. Some would recommend a shots-on-goal approach, but that’s never been comfortable for me. Slow and selective is my preferred methodology. While I may see attributes in the men I’ve dated, inevitably my gut gives me a warning that something is amiss. Typically, I explain my feelings, or lack thereof, and suggest we remain friends. With tact and kindness, things end well, and sometimes a friendship can commence.
Several weeks ago I went on a nice date. I was shocked at this unusual turn of events. Could I actually be enjoying someone's company? It seemed almost impossible. After escaping a crippling marriage, I search for red flags. Peering around every corner anticipating the need to protect myself emotionally. I must admit, with this guy I did see a couple of tiny pink flags early on, but my friends urged me to be open-minded, a new concept for me. I was hesitant, but ultimately I chose to be vulnerable despite the warning flags that flew in the back of my mind. I was surprised as I enjoyed each date and slowly began to trust that he could possibly be “a good one.” A few more warning flags surfaced, and my gut quaked. My friends were encouraged that at least I was open to giving this guy a chance, and enjoyed the experience, except one friend. My best friend. From day one he said, “I don’t trust him. He’s hiding something. I don’t even want you going out with him.” Turns out, he was correct.
This seemingly good guy went from planning subsequent dates and texting daily for a month, to disappearing without warning. I chuckled to myself hearing my friend's voice in my head and remembering my own hesitations from the start. I wasn't invested in this man, but the situation proved that I can and need to trust myself. Today, I can spot red flags easily. I’m not the blinded twenty-four year old girl I was when I walked down the aisle. I’m wiser, smarter, more alert, and I see it all. Every. Single.Thing. I have learned to remove myself from situations that feel icky, and I continually prove to myself that trust lies within me. I trust my own ability to withdraw when I sense trouble, instead of placing trust in others.
Over the years, I have inched towards being open, but vulnerability can lead to hurt, or my bigger fear, deceit. The truth is deep down, at the core, it still haunts me that I never saw all the manipulation within my marriage as it was happening under my youthful and apparently malfunctioning nose. The fear of unknowingly entering into an undermining relationship lingers in my head. Will I see the signs this time? Will I be fooled again? It’s hard to explain if you’ve never experienced it, but the best way to describe it is like tiny worms infesting flesh. At first, it’s one small one that you don’t even notice, and over time they multiply. Slowly, thousands have invaded and it’s overpowering, daunting for the victim to find a way to remove the attackers and become free of their tiny grasps. Thousands and thousands of tiny grasps. The strange thing is, that they feel stronger than a boa constrictor and are much less noticeable, so it’s easy to question oneself. How did this happen? Why didn’t I see the warning signs? The struggle to rationalize how tiny little things could damage and destroy, repeats in your head. It’s not like a noisy swarm of bees or an ambush by a two hundred pound gorilla. It’s a covert operation performed in minuscule steps creeping through a back door.
For a long time, I blamed myself for not recognizing the signs, but now I know better. How could I know what to look for at the young age of twenty? I am a different person today. I have three amazing daughters and they are in every decision I make about dating. Is this man good enough to be in the presence of my daughters? That’s my bar. Every experience brings me closer to knowing myself better and understanding what I desire. My backup plan of living a modern-day version of The Golden Girls, with my friend and pal, isn't so bad either, as long as we can stop fighting over who gets to be Blanche in the house. Maybe the 2035 adaptation will need to boast two sultry silver-haired, foxy ladies.