I Still Can’t Believe You’re Dating Men

The other night, over drinks, my friend looked me dead in the eye and said, "I still can’t believe you’re dating men."

And honestly? Neither can I, sometimes.

She’s newly dating women after a lifetime of relationships with men, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy. She was describing what it’s like—really like—to date someone who just… gets it.

No overanalysing, no emotional coddling.

Just directness. Saying what you mean and meaning what you say.

And God, that sounds nice.

Because when I think about my experiences, the men who sulk instead of saying they miss you, who disappear for months and then return with some emotionally messy monologue, who make their distance your problem instead of just saying what they need, I get it. I do.

But then I found myself saying, 

"Yeah, but there are good guys out there."

And the more I sat with it, the more I realised: I wasn’t just saying that. I really believe it.

Because I know them. I see them. And in a way, this isn’t a blog about men who don’t get it, it’s about the ones who do.

There’s a theory I read once about how women build relationships face-to-face while men do it side-by-side.

Women can sit across from each other, talk, process, name their feelings. Men, traditionally, do things together. They play football, work on projects, watch a game. They don’t talk about their feelings, but in some unspoken way, the connection is happening.

And honestly? That tracks - ha!

I’ve known men who have exhausted me emotionally, not because they’re bad people, but because they make connection feel like something I have to work for.

And I’m just not interested in doing that anymore.

But then, then there are the men who make it feel easy.

Like Joe, who was there and helped me move my things out of my ex’s house when I needed a hand. He didn’t need to say much because he understood the weight of it, the moment of it, and just showed up.

And afterwards, we got noodles. No dramatic breakdown, no forced "let's process this" talk. Just food and being there.

Like Mark, who doesn’t really know the full extent of my fibroids and how that means I get the most painful periods but somehow knew to ask, "Do you have everything you need?" when it was time of the month and had to cancel dinner plans.

And I can’t explain why that meant something, but it did.

Maybe because it’s not just about what people say, it’s about what they notice, what they anticipate without being asked.

Like Adam, my guitarist, who calls them DMCs: deep and meaningful conversations. Maybe it’s a band thing, maybe there’s something about music that forces you to let your guard down.

Who knows?

But what I do know is that I never have to wonder where I stand with him, and I never feel like I have to drag connection out of him.

And that makes all the difference.

Because connection doesn’t have to be a grand, emotional performance. It doesn’t even have to be a big talk. Sometimesit’s just presence. It’s consistency. It’s paying attention. It’s saying, "Hey, I’m here." And meaning it.

And I think that’s what I’ve realised, it’s not about whether men are naturally good at this or not. It’s about who is willing to be intentional about it.

Because I really do have grace for the men who struggle.

I really do.

Because, the reality is that this isn’t easy for me either.

I work at this, every day.

Emotional connection, expressing myself, being deliberate in how I show up for people, these aren’t just things that happen effortlessly.

They make effort, practice, and a decision to lean in, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Some days, I get it right.

Some days, I don’t.

But the point is, I try.

So yeah, I still date men.

But I don’t work for emotional connection anymore.

If I have to dig for it, extract it, pull it out of you like a stubborn tooth, then no.

Because I know what it looks like when someone chooses to show up.

If you can’t meet me halfway, why would I even try?

Because the thing is, there are men who do. And they’re the only ones worth my time.

And as for my friend? I am so happy for her. Genuinely.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this at peace, this excited about what’s ahead. I can’t wait to see who she meets next, how she falls, what she learns about herself along the way. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?

The more we ask these questions, the more we reflect, the more we figure out what kind of love we want and need, the clearer everything becomes.

And I think that’s a beautiful thing.