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“You can’t work your way into being loved. You can only express yourself and trust that the right person will like what they find.”
Finding the unmarked door, I entered a dimly lit room pulsing with that “Love Jones” energy. Neo-soul played low, shadows cast red light across the face, and the bass line vibrated in my chest. This is the kind of place where real conversations happen.
He appeared beside me while I was nursing a cocktail. Dark eyes, an easy smile, a presence that makes you sit up straight. “What are you drinking?”
In a few minutes, we’d move past small talk into deep stuff. Where we were on our journey. What was our goal. What we really wanted. The conversation seemed adult. intentional
When he asked for my number and offered his, my heart did things it hadn’t done in years. I walked out of Speakeasy floating.
The next day was Sunday—my reset day. I did not expect to hear from him immediately. But by Wednesday, the silence was loud. Time flies when you’re busy helping others, and I’ve been busy all week.
I texted him a quick hello, letting him know I enjoyed our conversation and looked forward to hearing from him. He never called.
I was amazed. He is close to me. He asked for my number. What did I do wrong?
I pulled out my journal and replayed the night frame by frame. What did I ask him? About his career. his family His dreams for the future. All the right open-ended questions to draw someone in and make them feel seen.
That’s when it hit me.
I am a high school counselor. I have a master’s degree and years of experience building relationships with teenagers and their families. People tell me they are naturally drawn to me, that I make them feel safe enough to be vulnerable. This is my gift.
But on that date, I was in counselor mode. I was so focused on the connection with To him—asking questions, creating safety, facilitating depth—that I never stopped asking myself: What am I too? want to connect from Him?
I was not faking. I was authentically… professional. And that was the problem.
It was not new. I thought back to another date. The lawyer who talked about his divorce for forty minutes while I nodded sympathetically. The teacher who shared her dream of starting a nonprofit when I asked thoughtful follow-up questions The musician who opened up about his complicated relationship with his father when I made room for his feelings.
I left each date thinking it went well. But I never once asked myself: Am I attracted to them? Were their values aligned with mine? Did I enjoy the conversation, or was I facilitating it?
I had no idea. Because I was very busy with my work.
It worked in my office. It has not worked to date. I wasn’t clocking. I needed to stop leaning on my professional skills and start being realistic about what I really wanted.
I started reading Love is brave. Journaling at night. Listening to Lewis Hay. Continued my yoga practice. I wasn’t faking the date, but I didn’t know what I was looking for.
Once I figure out what I like about myself, I can express what I want in a partner. A true best friend who will hang out with me, support my dreams and dream my own. Someone who won’t try to control me or make me lose myself.
I was down that road before. I chose to stay single rather than settle down.
So I got to work. Don’t find a man – find me.
I took a hard look at my past relationships. What I tolerated. Which I ignored. I gave up everything to keep the peace. It became painfully obvious: I was so focused on being chosen that I forgot I was choosing.
I did myself a favor. I didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, so I didn’t have any relationship templates to reference. I was finding this self-love thing as I was living it, every single day.
It was not easy. But I knew my person wouldn’t be knocking on my door when I was performing for strangers.
I started dating myself. I didn’t wait to be told to get the doll up. I plan to celebrate my own life.
I stopped accepting last minute invitations. Anyone who truly respects me will plan ahead, not assume I’m sitting at home waiting to be elected.
Shifting my mindset from “picking” to “picking” gave me the confidence to ask different questions on dates. What were you listening to in your car? Are you open to marriage? Do you want kids? They think I don’t care that I’m too direct.
My online profile was honest about what I wanted while showing my personality — silly, bubbly, compassionate. When a connection transitioned to a phone call, I’d set the tone: “Hey, we’re both looking for our person. If it doesn’t feel right—for either of us—let’s respectfully call.”
Most said they were cool with it. Some probably meant it.
For the first time, I chose to use my voice and set boundaries. And as hard as it was to say “no thank you”, I did.
I remember a date where we met for drinks after work. I no longer have dinner dates – no need to be stuck with the wrong person for so long. He was handsome. The conversation was good. But my gut knew it wasn’t a romantic match, and I wasn’t looking for friends.
When he asked if he could walk me to my car, I said, “I’m actually going to dinner at the bar.” He asked if I wanted company.
I said no.
Old man I used to say yes for politeness. New I ordered wine and savored every bite of my meal alone. It was the first time I felt confident eating by myself in public and it felt powerful.
I didn’t want to marry just anyone. I was looking for my man. And that requires putting yourself first.
I started trying new things alone. I took a jewelry making class at community college – partly because I love jewelry, partly because who knows where you might meet someone. It didn’t lead to love, but I did meet one of my best friends now.
For months, I dated intentionally. Some people were nice but not my people. Some have expressed themselves as jerks within five minutes. I learned to let go without guilt or explanation.
I was getting tired. But I made a promise to myself: no compromises. So I keep showing up.
Then there was Seth from Seattle. We had been texting for weeks after meeting online. His profile mentioned how much he loved “PNW”. I had to Google what that meant—I thought it might be something sexual. It stands for Pacific Northwest.
He was fun to talk to and made me laugh. Sometimes I would be silent for days, but every time I responded, it felt easier. natural He remembered the details of my life. He was vulnerable about his past relationships. He could express whatever he wanted.
When he invited me to dinner a month ago—he was coming to Arizona for a conference—I broke my drinks-only rule. Something about him felt different.
Dinner is done, and so are all the clichés I rolled my eyes at. “You’ll know if you know.” “It happens when you least expect it.” I felt it as I got out of my car and saw him standing there.
We sat side by side in the restaurant, talked for hours, and I knew: This was an alignment I didn’t have to make. We were on the same page without the privilege of going there.
Before he went home, I called him from my car. “I just wanted to make sure you know how much I like you.” He said, I like you too.
That moment was not about being chosen. It was about having the courage to choose—and to have a voice with or without playing the game.
I was proud of myself. Not to find love, but to love yourself first. To say whether or not to align. To show up as I am—unrepentant, ineffective, completely myself.
I’ve learned that my professional strengths—connecting with people, creating security, leveraging vulnerability—can actually sabotage me in dating. I was performing without realizing it. Still being authentic when auditioning. And it kept me from real connection.
Once I did the work, I approached dating differently. I didn’t go on a date expecting her to like me. We walked in hoping to discover if we lined up. And when we weren’t I trusted myself enough to leave.
The value of staying does not come easily. Think about your career, the goals you’ve achieved, the promises you’ve made. It took work. Daily effort. Dating with purpose is no different.
If I could say anything to that woman at the speakeasy it would be: Your professional skills are a gift. But to date, they are armor. You can’t build real intimacy when you’re busy facilitating a nice conversation.
The right person doesn’t have to be skilled at connecting you. They need to be honest about whether you are connected or not. And it has to look raw—unpolished, unworkable, willing to look.
Stop auditioning. Start choosing. The rest will follow.
about Gabriella Holt
After surviving domestic violence, Gabriela began her journey of self-love. Four years later, she meets Seth. When breast cancer develops three years into their relationship, choosing to be yourself becomes a daily habit, not just survival. A Professional Certified Coach (PCC) and founder of Golden Hour Life Coaching, she helps high achievers stop performing for love. Featured on the Finding the Unicorn in You podcast and higher education conference on resilience, she lives in Washington with Seth and Rookie. https://www.goldenhourlifecoaching.com/
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