Love: Should We Trust Our Gut Over Our Brains?

A wonderful reader once wrote that reading this blog felt like reading her favorite romance novel but better, because ‘you never know how it’s going to end’.

I loved her comment, however my gosh, how I would love to know how this is going to end.

Is there ever going to be an end to this endless, dreadful, soul emptying dating cycle?

Will there ever be a moment where I will feel like actually I’m safe, all is well and perhaps I will be able to share my most intimate part of life with somebody other than myself and a bunch of careless idiots?

The choice is always ours.

I’ve learned this.

My sister in law, a little while back, in the middle of a discussion where I was pouring my struggling heart out about how much I was putting up with to try to stay together with my ex, she famously pronounced these wise words:

You do realize that you don’t have to take any shit at all, right?

It’s really true.

So why is it that we choose to stay when the situation is dire or even when we are not even so sure that we even really like the human sitting across from us?

In this specific case, my friends, I stayed because I was scared to go through my birthday, Christmas and NYE completely alone without so much as the dream that I had met someone I could build with. Especially when my younger brother and sister in law are expecting. I always thought we’d get to do this at the same time and raise our kids together.

I stayed because he was sure, and if he’s so sure, I thought, perhaps there is something I am missing. Perhaps it will be nice to be with someone who doesn’t put me throught he ‘wife job interview’ process for once. Perhaps I can trust a man can see my worth through all the noise and choose me just for being me.

The truth is, he chose me way before knowing I am me.

He chose me before knowing the type of person that I was, probably solely based off of looks and kindness. Not a strong start, I know.

But my gosh, I was happy to swim in that pool of certainty.

Trust me, he said, everything will work out. Do you trust me?

I do. I replied.

But I didn’t, thankfully. I thought he had no clue what he was doing and that there was no depth in this relationship. However, although trust for someone who told me he loves me without even really knowing me was not there, something else was: hope.

I was, in fact, hoping he would prove me wrong.

I was hoping he would sweep me off my feet into the wonderful life I so often dream of.

Perhaps, this is the time for a quick update.

Also, it’s probably best I let you know that I am once again single.

I think, at least.

Here’s how it went.

There is a point in time in each shitty attempt to a relationship where you send a sweet goodnight text and at the same time you type in your notes the message you actually wanted to send.

The questions you’d like to ask, the incongruities you would like to understand, the words that were spoken out of place you’d like to clarify. Yet you choose to remain silent. You don’t want to offend, you don’t want to scare them off, you don’t want to overstep.

As I spot a number of unsent messages I realized this relationship is more likely than not — doomed to fail.

That voice in your head you know so well starts speaking loudly:

This is a conversation you should have in person.

He’s probably going through something, he’s usually not like this.

Nothing has changed, you both have probably been apart for too long.

So you wait. You write out the messages and you never actually send them, but these words are echoing through your mind every single moment of the day. Why, why is it suddenly different?

That’s our signal right there. It’s probably time to get out.

Typically, in the end I very politely just ask what’s going on. I try to bridge the gap of emptiness and confusion with kind words.

I don’t like to live with things unsaid.

In this case, each time I tried to address how I was feeling, I received either a heart back or a very empty reply or a complete change of subject.

Last week I received an ‘I will call, but you always complain’.

So I censored myself.

I opted for compliments and sweetness. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.

In truth, I have been struggling to write this blog because I was patiently awaiting for this new ‘relationship’ I’m in, with my new Portuguese guy, R, to become real.

For something to happen.

For stories to unfold.

For heartfelt surprises, for roadtrips but he beach, for boring days made wonderful just because we got to sleep in each other’s arms.

I was waiting to see him in real life properly and to get this love story started.

Three months and a week into this relationship with a man who told me he has to time to waste, that he’s serious, that he loves me, that he thinks I’m the one (I know I know I know Love Bombing — in my defense he was so consistent I was hoping he was just a bit on the spectrum) and I’m alone, at home, after he moved or cancelled more flights than any other human being ever.

Or never booked.

He kept me waiting for three months.

I am so confused. He would call me every day multiple times a day, he messaged all the time, he never went to bed without a goodnight yet he just never actually booked to see me.

Three days in three months together. We haven’t even been physical.

Nothing.

It started out all so cute and sexy and present and filled with effort and now it’s the usual sad display of uselessness.

Until S%$t hit the fan.

Last week he was meant to arrive Friday, then Saturday, then he was sick so Sunday, then Monday. Then I said let’s meet Thrusday in Italy. Yes, he replied. I prefer it!

No flight booking, no certainty on dates.

Perhaps I’ll come Friday.

Okay.

Friday or Saturday.

No. I replied firmly. Friday. It makes a huge difference in my life to know which day you will actually come.

My secretary sometimes books things wrong.

I sent him a screenshot of the actual flight to book.

Let me help her, this is the flight, 19:00 you arrive in Italy.

Ah thank you super let me send it to her.

But the next day again.

She hasn’t replied.

Okay. Stay calm.

We speak on the phone Wednesday night, I open up to him about how I’m feeling, he tells me he understands, he is so sweet I go to bed genuinely happy.

I can’t wait to see you and to hold you.

Me too, I reply.

I truly couldn’t. It had been so long.

I was looking forward to discovering him, to new adventures, to taking the first steps, barefoot, into a potential life together.

The next day I notice a story from Madrid. I imagine he’s simply posting old photos of where he would like to be but instead when I message him to thank him for being so wonderful to me the night before he tells me he is in Madrid and will return the following evening to Lisbon.

I realize then and there that he won’t be coming on Friday.

I ask, he simply replies ‘Saturday at noon’.

The end.

I never replied, he tried to check in later that night, I replied with another emoji. It was done.

Not even a word of acknowledgment of the change of plans, of how it would impact me. It’s not about the change of date, once again, life happens. It was more about the way in which he treated me. No words of explanation, no apology, not one call to say I am so sorry it was last minute — not even a warning on Madrid when he obviously already knew this was the case.

So sad.

He never showed up on Saturday, he never told me he wouldn’t, he’s been posting stories of himself in Lisbon driving around and going to the beach instead.

I cried the entire weekend.

What if we were to trust our gut?

I once read this quote:

How would you live and act if you know with certainty a year from today you will be with the love of your life?

This got me thinking:

What would I entertain and what would I immediately discard?
How much time would I dedicate to work and to my personal life?
How much time would I invest on just being alone?

Perhaps the key to the next steps are right there, in the answers to these questions.

My therapist told me that I always know the answer the moment I meet someone, that my instinct is always spot on, but that I never actually listen to it.

Like any intelligent — still in her 30’s — grown woman would do, I asked Claude:

When we make decisions based on our gut instinct, what should we know about out gut instinct to ensure we are making the right one (because I never truly trust it):

Your gut instinct is pattern recognition — nothing more, nothing less

Your gut isn’t magic or mystical. It’s your brain rapidly matching the current situation against thousands of stored experiences and flagging a response before conscious thought catches up. That’s it. Which means:

It’s only as good as the patterns it’s learned from.

…

When to trust it — and when not to

Trust your gut when:

– You have deep experience in that domain (a seasoned coach reading a client’s resistance, a musician sensing a wrong note)

– The decision is time-pressured and stakes are moderate

– Your body signals are calm clarity, not anxiety

– You’ve been in similar situations many times before

Don’t trust your gut when:

– You’re in a new or unfamiliar domain — the pattern library is thin

– You’re emotionally activated (stressed, tired, threatened) — fear masquerades as intuition constantly

– The feeling is “I want this to be true” — that’s desire, not instinct

– There’s status, ego, or identity attached to the outcome

– Your past experiences were in different contexts than the current one

If you have also been reading my blog, I believe we can all agree that I have been in these situations before, that I don’t need more repetition compulsion because I am well aware that no one can turn an avoidant into a secure attacher nor make a narcissist care.

If I’m honest with myself, I knew this guy wasn’t my person since day 1. It’s time to stop giving any time or attention to someone you know with certainty is not your person, especially when endings can be so hard.

It turns out, our gut is our brain, and we need to trust it, it could save us so much time.

We only have one heart.

As I sit here trying to regroup my parts that have been running back and forth from the fire inside my heart trying desperately to put it out and to salvage the remains, I can’t help feeling that our fates are much more in our own sphere of control than we often think.

We have a choice, we may not get it right every single day but we so know what’s good and bad and are more than capable to use it to protect our own wonderful hearts.

I try not to wonder how he may be feeling, though I do hope he is okay as well.

It may take a bit more time for me to get there but I have learned that the only way out is through, so as I envision myself walking through the tunnel I ask my other parts to stay with me, and to potentially be ready to believe, once more, that we deserve love, that we already have as much as we need inside of ourselves, in our families and friends, to have hope that even ‘that’ kind of love, will find us.