Something happened recently. Something that is kind of a big fucking deal in my new relationship.
Spoiler alert: it had absolutely nothing to do with my boyfriend.
Let me be really fucking honest here. Being a life coach that works with singles on dating, love and relationships, while being out there dating and working on love and relationships herself is fucking humbling as shit.
Especially on days that I am just plain sucking at it.
Because those days totally happen, even for me. Days where I am downright uncomfortable with letting someone into the weird and wacky world of Kira. And trust me, it is pretty weird and wacky in there.
But if you are doing this right, it is going to feel uncomfortable.
It is going to feel hard. It is going to feel scary and (insert a bunch of other feelings that people don’t want to talk about around love and relationships).
But I digress.
There came a point in my new relationship where something felt different than it had in a very long time. Maybe completely different than it had ever felt before. And not just because it is a new guy and he is special (‘cause he fucking is), but because I am different than I was before. This is partly due to the fact that I had done a lot of “self work” after my last break up and partly due to some major mindset shifts from my Dad becoming ill this past year.
These experiences had left me more vulnerable and at the same time more clear than I had ever been. This is a scary, but equally great place to be in.
So couple the “new me” with this amazing guy and the “smitten” phase started pretty quickly. All the good things were happening.
Smart conversations. Check.
Magical make outs. Check.
Occupying my thoughts in the best ways possible. Check.
Can’t wait until the next time I see him. Check.
I was fucking in this to win this. And it felt really. fucking. good.
But then one night something happened that was really awkward for me. I was hanging at home, alone, and my iphone dinged. I smiled, thinking it was a text from D (the object of my smittenship) but it wasn’t.
It was from “Plan B.” Wondering what that means? Let me explain.
Plan B was one of the guys that I liked to flirt with, usually virtually. He was never a real prospect, but he made me feel wanted. Pretty. Not so damn single.
My relationship with Plan B existed purely for entertainment and convenience on both sides. We were there to make each other feel good and ultimately, although I hate to admit it, less lonely. Because life can be fucking hard. Especially on our own.
As I read his mildly flirty text I realized very quickly that I had a decision to make. I could keep the flirting going, just in case…
I mean, we had not agreed to be exclusive yet.
We were not sleeping together.
All I owed him was honesty and kindness and to keep checking this out, right?
But the truth is, I owed myself something more.
I owed myself a real chance at love and a relationship.
And the truth is this: when I had the Plan Bs showing up in my texts, emails, facebooks, etc….I was never really “doing this.” I was never giving my relationship a real chance.
Once I started thinking about it, I realized I had always had a Plan B. Even while dating. They were the back-up plan. They protected me so that I never had to go all in. They kept me safe so I wouldn’t be officially hurt if things didn’t work out.
And if I didn’t get the text or call that I wanted, in the timeframe that I wanted, there was always someone I could flirt with to tell me I was pretty. Or smart. Or whatever I needed to hear at that moment because the person I was dating wasn’t doing what I THOUGHT THEY SHOULD DO.
But that is bullshit.
Here is why — Plan B’s always kept me dating with one foot out the door. They never allowed me to be really honest with the person I was dating. They never pushed me to go all in or give this love stuff a real, fighting chance.
I’m talking about growing a relationship into something beautiful and real, full of excitement, trust, hope, fear, messy, crazy, awesome and everything-in-between. Plan B was my subtle sabotage, getting in the way of that. Plan B was a nice idea.
And holding onto a Plan B was me, allowing myself, to buy into my fear.
So that night, I stopped giving into fear and gave into love.
Love for myself.
Love for the potential of this amazing guy.
Love for the potential of real love and an awesome relationship.
I let the Plan B’s know that night that all communication from that point on would be just friendship. That is all. Because I really cared about this guy and I couldn’t wait to see where it would go.
In fact, I am still really excited 🙂
Although I expected some opposition, they all respected it. They understood. They even complimented me. They knew that they wanted someone, someday who would do the same.
Because we all want love and that starts with us actually letting love in.
Are you ready to go all in?