The Difference Between Needing Someone and Choosing Someone

After my divorce, I never pretended I didn’t want love again or swear off men. That’s never been me. I’ve always been someone who believes in connection and who thrives when I have someone to love and build with. Maybe it’s because I’m a romantic by nature. I always have been and I always will be.

At first, I thought I might still want my ex. There’s a strange comfort in the familiar, even when the relationship is broken. But once I got clear on my feelings, I knew I’d want and need someone new someday. What was less clear was whether I could trust myself to recognize the kind of love that was actually good for me. That uncertainty made me open… a little too open, maybe. Open to attention, to charm, to the tall, dark, and handsome. And just a few months after separating, I found myself caught up with someone new. We’ll call him Alan.

Chemistry Isn’t Clarity

Alan and I locked eyes in the middle of a tech store, and that was it. He was on my mind immediately, and it didn’t take much for me to fall headfirst into that infatuation. Every time we were together, it felt like magic. Even though it was brief and noncommittal, it was absolutely electric. It was the kind of chemistry that makes you feel chosen. Like something powerful is pulling you in. I started to believe I needed him to feel happy, needed that spark to feel alive. And maybe worse, I believed that if it didn’t feel like that with any other man in the future, it wasn’t real. But emotional intensity is NOT emotional intimacy. And I learned that the hard way. That fire we shared couldn’t build a single thing. It just kept burning out.

Emotional Intimacy is a Need, Not a Bonus

When I dated Peter, a teacher I worked with, I discovered something else: the power of a steady connection. He liked to talk on the phone all day, throughout the day. I wasn’t used to that at all. But once I experienced it, I realized how much I craved it. After we broke up, I didn’t miss him as much as I missed that emotional intimacy. There was something about the comfort of knowing someone was thinking of me and wanting to know how I was doing.

It made me realize that consistent, reliable communication wasn’t a luxury. It was something I needed in a relationship. It didn’t necessarily need to be constant, but it did need to be intentional, predictable, and tender. That sort of space makes me feel safe, connected, and emotionally supported.

Settling is a Subtle Thing

I’ve never really been afraid of being alone. What I struggled with was knowing when to walk away. There was one time, though, when I stayed in something just to avoid the silence. Derrick and I were never aligned. He didn’t want to marry, didn’t want kids, and didn’t believe in God. All things I knew concretely about myself and that mattered. Still, it felt easier to spend time with him than to sit at home facing the emptiness of transition. So I let the relationship linger.

But I knew that’s exactly what I was doing - lingering. I didn’t feel completely at ease around him. My spirit was constantly trying to get my attention. I had to quiet parts of myself to keep the connection going, and that kind of self-betrayal adds up fast. It taught me that even temporary comfort can come at too high a cost.

Presence Isn’t the Same as Availability

Some men show up, but they never open up. Alan was like that. He texted. Called. Hung out. But we never talked about anything real. There was no depth or vulnerability. It was all surface. That was when I realized that being emotionally available isn’t about how often someone shows up. It’s about how much of themselves they’re willing to let you see.

Then, in a strange twist, I saw it in myself. With Derrick, he was emotionally open and trying to connect. But I was closed. I just couldn’t let him in. I was still raw, still guarded, still recovering. And that was a turning point for me. I realized I had to stop measuring men by charm or presence alone. I needed to know they could hold space for my heart, and that I could hold space for theirs. And that changed everything about how I dated.

Wanting Isn’t Needy

I used to think asking for too much would scare a man away (because that's what society tells us!). So I’d shrink the parts of me that wanted more. But now, I own what I want in a relationship: regular and outward expressions of love, consistency, and ambition. I want to feel chosen, seen, and pursued. And I’m no longer ashamed of that.

Then, there are things I know I need to feel secure and fulfilled: quality time, active listening, and emotional support. I’m learning to ask for those things before I feel deprived. I’m learning to name what’s missing before it turns into resentment. And I’ve realized that being clear about your emotional needs in a relationship is one of the kindest things you can do for yourself and your partner.

Boundaries Are a Love Language, Too

Saying no used to scare me. I worried it would push people away. But now I understand that boundaries are not walls. They’re invitations to be intentional. When I say no to inconsistent affection, I’m saying yes to emotional safety. When I say no to shallow relationships, I’m making space for deeper ones. Every no is really a yes to something I value more. And in love, that matters. I’ve learned that boundaries don’t block intimacy. They build it. They teach you what you truly want, and what you will no longer tolerate.

Choosing Love is Power

By the time Eddie came into my life, I had already done the work. I had taken myself on dates. Comforted myself through hard moments. Learned to love my own company. I wasn’t looking to be rescued or filled up. I just wanted a partner to build with. So when he came around, it wasn’t about filling a void. It was about adding joy. He didn’t arrive to complete me. He came to walk beside me. And that’s what choosing looks like. It’s not desperate. It’s not anxious. It’s quiet, confident, and full.

How to Know You’re Ready to Choose a Relationship

You’re not wrong for wanting love. And once you’ve done the work, you’ll stop chasing it to feel whole. Instead, you’ll choose it to feel expanded. Here’s how to know you’re ready to choose from clarity and not survival.

1. Learn how you love and how you heal.

2. Meet your own needs first.

3. Get clear on your emotional non-negotiables.

4. Watch what they do, not just what they say.

5. Make sure love adds to your life, not just fills it.

If you’re somewhere between wanting love and learning how to choose it, I see you. Take a moment to journal what you need in a relationship versus what you want. Then ask yourself: Am I showing up for myself in those ways first?

Share this with a friend who’s doing the work, or leave a comment if this spoke to you. Let’s keep growing toward love that’s mutual, mature, and magnetic.