RELATIONSHIPS

When You’re Blessed And Cursed By The Ability To Read People

When you know, you know.

If you can read people well, you know if they’re a good fit before you meet or go out on a date. You don’t always know why you know. But you know. And it’s painfully obvious. You can try to make them into someone else, but it won’t last for long.

If you’re paying attention to your intuition, it’s impossible to ignore your incompatibilities or lack of chemistry. You can also sense when they’re trouble. It sucks sometimes, but you can weed people out if you accurately read them.

Some of us are so highly skilled in the art of reading people that we figure them out right away. What we do with that is contingent on our level of self-honesty and acceptance.

If we want them to be different, we might try to ignore our spidey senses. We could even have babies with them when they should’ve been just a friend. Or we keep going back to the same unavailable men because we “know” they love us, even when they withhold attention. I’m not naming any names here. It’s merely an observation. Ahem.

I keep meeting potential mates who end up being platonic friends. It doesn’t matter if they’re intellectually stimulating. It doesn’t help if they pay attention and compliment me. We can’t magically match up with only some of the important boxes checked.

Besides my failure to find a new partner, I’ve been exploring the possibility of an intimate relationship with my longtime friend for this whole year. He’s enthusiastically joined me in the exploration, then backed out. But wait a couple of months, and we’ll go spelunking again, discovering new treasures within each other. That’s my guess, anyway.

That relationship is more complicated since I know why he’s afraid to take a risk and be with me. That’s because I can read him like a psychology textbook most of the time. He’s acting like he’s anxious-avoidant, and I’m consciously in denial about it.

Even if that’s not the reason, I know he’s not available to me right now. I always fall for people who are emotionally unavailable in some fashion or another. So, yeah, duh. Of course, I knew.

I didn’t want to know what I saw in him. He doesn’t have red flags, just obvious roadblocks. He put them there, and I can’t get them out of our way. That would involve us both, and he doesn’t appear willing to move toward the intimacy I crave.

We’ve been acquainted for many years, and I probably could’ve called it a while ago. But here I am, an energy reader with a real denial problem. I want to be with him in all the ways. We used to be just friends, but I know we could be and are so much more. I’m trying to accept that we aren’t what I want us to be.

He’s my biggest challenge right now because we have chemistry coming out of every pore. We share the same love languages, giving practical gifts that make us appreciate each other more than ever. We have matched values and have intellectually stimulating conversations. He encourages and supports me, and he makes me laugh. We talk openly about sex, often about sex with each other.

Still, I know things about him I don’t want to acknowledge, like the one thing that he doesn’t offer — emotional availability in an intimate relationship. I’d rather live in my rich fantasy world where he’s present in all the ways. La, la, la, I can’t hear you. All is well over here.

Don’t you wish you didn’t know? I ask myself this daily. You could fool yourself you’ve found “the one,” even when they think wearing a mask in a pandemic is a sign of living in fear. You could accept that everyone has varied opinions and justify the cognitive dissonance because your other values dovetail. Hmmm. Would that work?

Naw, it doesn’t. I’ve tried exactly that and a multitude of variations on that theme. It never works. I always know. I see red flags all over their energy. It’s impossible to ignore. And whenever I paint them green, they look brownish-red. They’re still a problem. Damn it.

But here’s the thing. I call it a curse sometimes. But being able to read people is one of the most valuable resources for determining relationship status. When you know yourself and see what you want and don’t want in another person, you’re golden. You only need to be honest.

I went out on a date with a nice guy I’ll call Jake* a couple of weeks ago. We’d talked and talked on the phone, one night for three hours. We can talk about anything.

Even though he likes heavy metal (I don’t), and even if sarcasm is his love language, we found common ground. We shared some other music genres we both like. And, as it turns out, I wasn’t offended by his brand of sarcasm. He likes good-natured teasing. I’m ok with that. We’re both vaccinated against COVID, and our politics unsurprisingly coincided.

But when we met in person, there was no spark. We still had zero chemistry at the end of our date. I texted him that evening and said I’d love to hang out sometime as friends, that it seems we don’t have chemistry. He felt the same, and it all worked out.

Interestingly, I met the next guy, who I’ll call Matthew*, on the same hiking trail I’d traversed with Jake a couple of days earlier. We smiled at each other and seemed to feel all the vibes. He ended up leaving me a note, calling me “the lovely lady with the dazzling smile.” I wrote a story about our interaction, expressing my hope and delight that I might have found a mate. We started chatting on the phone, and I swore we had chemistry.

He believes in the power of herbs and holistic health care, so he chose not to vaccinate against COVID. It’s one thing to not vaccinate and keep your distance, but he works with young children.

He doesn’t agree with the protocol and is appalled by a coworker’s safety precautions like mask-wearing at the workplace. I have strong opposing opinions and beliefs. He made the last comment in a text message, or I would’ve challenged him. I’m not sure if I have the energy to respond because it was kind of a dealbreaker.

But that wasn’t the first red flag. I noticed an earlier warning sign before his reaction to the pandemic. He began texting me with familiarity and presumptive intimacy every day. He included heart emojis and the like. I wondered if he’d become too attached or crowd me later.

I considered meeting in person outdoors, but I already know he’s not the one for me. I read into more than what he told me. I also admittedly wasn’t physically attracted to him when he sent me a photo. So much for that conjured-up chemistry that we never had. I was trying that whole “I can’t see the truth” thing, and it didn’t work.

Ultimately, reading people well requires self-honesty and direct communication with everyone you meet. I can pretend like it’s working out. But what good does that do? I want to use my gift to invite the ideal match into my life, not overcrowd it with unmatched puzzle pieces.

Why waste my time trying to paint my red flags green? I know what green flags look and feel like. I could keep an eye out for them, ya know?

Reading someone is like planting a garden and knowing what to remove so everything else will grow. I’m willing to pull the weeds so I can reap a healthy, abundant harvest. And what a gift, to know which ones are weeds.

Most of us know when someone fits with us. We know because we feel a sense of ease. We won’t have to wonder, manipulate, or yearn for more. No one person will check off all of our boxes. But everyone has non-negotiables. When you find that person who doesn’t have to change to fit inside those parameters, and neither do you, you’ll know.

When you know, you know.

*Names changed to protect the innocent

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