Roses Are Red, Red Flags Are Pretty

I don’t think most of us want to admit that we’re actually attracted to red flags. It’s so much easier to blame someone else for their bad behavior than admit we saw it upfront and chose to ignore it. We’d much rather say that we were tricked than admit we fooled ourselves on purpose.

But the signs are always there. Always. I can’t think of a single exception. Even the best liars let the mask slip from time to time. Or we get a feeling that something isn’t right but let it slide. The red flags aren’t ever truly hidden, but we’re so used to them that they seem like a normal part of the background. And for a while, they are. Pretending we don’t see red flags is how we fall in and out of toxic relationships.

That’s how we fall in and out of toxic relationships.

That’s how we fall into love and then disappointment. We become jaded — not because there are no good partners out there but because we keep repeating the same tired dating experiences. They never end well, but we always think that this time will be different.

Until, one day, we finally see that while the partners change, we never do.

Once we do realize the pattern, we often switch to self-loathing and shame, which benefits no one. It’s important to be gentle with ourselves at this point in the healing process. Accepting our role in the process and taking accountability doesn’t mean we’re terrible people. It means we’re having a valid human experience of learning the hard way. Yes, we made mistakes, but learning from them means we’re less likely to make them again.

After the last time it happened to me, I had to really sit with myself. I was bombarded suddenly with all the red flags I ignored because I was so used to inconsistent behavior that I had a million excuses close at hand already. The worst part of it wasn’t realizing I’d made the same mistake again despite all my progress. The worst part was realizing that I sacrificed myself so readily in a relationship in hopes of keeping the crumbs he was willing to offer me. Treating myself so poorly was so much more painful than being treated poorly by yet another emotionally unavailable man who overpromised and underdelivered.

I stopped replaying the relationship in my head over and over in favor of addressing earlier trauma that had made me susceptible to yet another disappointing relationship. I sat down with a trauma therapist and went as far back as memory would allow. I was going to finally unpack my sh*t in hopes that I could finally lay down that burden for good.

Being in trauma therapy changed how I dated.

What’s funny is that I no longer swiped on the same type of people. I no longer found their inconsistency attractive. I wasn’t interested in ignoring red flags — or worse, inviting them into my life to wreck me. I got very good at seeing the signs before we’d even meet up — and then declining an invitation to allow chemistry to overrule my common sense.

In truth, that refusal to meet up with someone who already had red flags showing was one of the biggest differences in how I dated as I healed. I wasn’t just handing out chances to people who weren’t on the same page. I acknowledged upfront when a match wasn’t a good fit and walked away amicably before we’d even had a chance to form a real attachment.

At one point, a close friend questioned if this was avoidant behavior. Shouldn’t I at least get to know someone better before jumping to judgment? But I used to think that way, and I would end up in relationships with people who were never ready to love me well. I wasn’t judging all of mankind as inferior to myself. Rather, I was being honest with myself about what I wanted and needed, and I was declining anything that didn’t fit inside those parameters.

What made it easier was that I was no longer in a state of longing for what I didn’t have. As I healed, I didn’t think I would live an unhappy life if I never found my soulmate. I began to see that my life would be whatever I made of it, and if I wanted joy, I’d have to be the one to create it. No one else was going to come in and bring me a steady supply of happiness. No one else was ever meant to.

I wasn’t lonely anymore. My life had a purpose and meaning beyond romantic relationships. I had hobbies, interests, friends, and a boundless sense of playfulness and curiosity. I wasn’t pining on the sidelines or daydreaming about a man who didn’t love me well coming back to me. I was too busy healing and loving my life.

The red flags that once attracted me so strongly lost their appeal.

While the rollercoaster routine was familiar, I also realized it was toxic. I knew that I deserved better than a man who couldn’t decide if he wanted me. I knew that I deserved better than men who wanted to ride my coattails to security and comfort rather than making their own way. I knew that I deserved a beautiful love, and I began to give myself the love I’d always wanted from someone else.

I’m making it sound easy when it was anything but. As I realized the difference between my relationship history and the relationship future I wanted, I experienced a lot of grief for all that I’d missed. I also grieved all that I’d gone through in the name of love and desire. It was an emotional time, but it was also necessary for my growth.

I went through all those stages of sadness and anger, but by the time I arrived at acceptance, I was ready to stop blaming everyone else for my choices. While I can certainly say that the men of my past could have behaved better, I can also readily admit that their behavior should have been my cue to walk away. How mad can I really get at them when I stuck around and signed up for more of the same?

Now, I feel a deep sense of trust and pride in myself.

When I notice a red flag and accept it rather than trying to put lipstick on a pig, I feel good. I know that I’m doing things differently, and I’m doing it for a healthy reason. I don’t want to learn the hard way anymore. I’d love for my future lessons to be soft and warm, safe places to learn that it’s possible to be loved well.

I even came to a point where I stopped dating entirely. I lost interest in trying to find a healthy partner in the unhealthy arena of dating apps. I stopped spending my time searching and started finding better things to do. I wasn’t overthinking conversations or profiles. I wasn’t trying to decipher interest or determine the proper length of time someone should text back. If they were playing games, I wasn’t even sitting at the table.

Instead, I was creating a beautiful life. I have hobbies and interests that fascinate me. I have friends and fun. I’m not sitting around waiting for life to happen to me. I’m not acting as if a loving relationship will somehow solve every problem.

I remain open to love.

I understand the value of a healthy partnership just as I understand the value of a healthy single life. I won’t settle for less. I know that I deserve consistency, love, and kindness. From myself most of all.

I no longer find red flags attractive. I finally see them for what they are — a STOP sign to go no further. A DANGER sign to ignore at my peril. I use them to inform my decisions, and I don’t pretend that the next emotionally inaccessible man will be different than the last.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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