I want to share something a little more vulnerable with you today. My dating life.
This isn’t just about single dad dating or dating in general. It’s about my default setting and who knows, maybe yours too.
Over the summer, I was dating someone. She was kind. Steady. Genuinely caring. And I got scared.
Not scared of her. Scared of going all in.
If I’m being honest, the fear was simple: What if I commit and miss out on something better?
That’s uncomfortable for me to admit. But it’s also all to familiar.
I’ve had wonderful women come in and out of my life for years, and more often than not, I haven’t fully stepped all in. Why? Because somewhere in the background there’s always been this quiet question:
Is there something better around the corner?
For me it's one of the hardest patterns to admit. It's not that I believe someone better is guaranteed to appear; it's that I'm haunted by the possibility that someone might be better for ME.
Someone who reflects me back to myself in a way that feels more affirming, more validating, more enough. As a result, I've held a piece of me in reserve my entire dating life, keeping one eye slightly open, scanning the horizon for what else could be out there.
As far as my default setting goes the next step in my pattern is to start scanning the person in front of me for what’s wrong with them. Ugh, just typing that sounds horrible. I told you this was going to be vulnerable.
Little things. Small differences. Moments that, on their own, don’t really matter. But when you’re already half-out, they start to feel like proof. Instead of deepening what's in front of me, I begin auditing. Instead of asking, "how can we building something meaningful?" I start looking for what's missing.
See? This isn’t right.
See? I shouldn’t commit.
See? There has to be someone who fits better.
It’s a convenient trap. Because as long as I'm collecting evidence, I don’t have to face the harder question: What am I avoiding in myself?
Back to the girl from the summer. Sure, there were differences between us. I’m a sports junkie—she wasn’t. There were moments of uncomfortable silence. All things that became mental checkmarks feeding a story I was already telling myself.
So I used the fact that my dad, who was in the hospital at, as an excuse to leave the relationship. He's better now, btw.
I told myself I didn’t have the capacity for a relationship because there was too much going on. And once that story started, everything got filtered through it until it was over.
It makes me wonder sometimes—am I even built for a relationship? Relationships require something I didn’t fully practice with her: radical honesty.
Not just honesty after the fact. Not just clarity once the dust settles. Real-time honesty. Slowing down enough to say, “Here’s what I’m feeling. Here’s what I’m afraid of.” I didn’t do that.
Instead I stayed in my head. I analyzed. I distanced. And eventually, I left.
After some time passed, I tried to reconcile. I reached back out. I told her more of the truth.
But she wasn’t having it. And I don’t blame her.
Looking back, it’s my biggest regret from this past year. Not because she was perfect. Not because we didn’t have differences. But because I didn’t show up fully when I had the chance.
We live in a world that makes dating hard. Dating apps turn people into options. Swiping turns connection into window shopping.
It’s easy to believe the next best thing is one swipe away. But the “next best thing” doesn’t fix what you’re unwilling to face in yourself. And yes, I'm talking about myself.
If you don’t have intimacy with yourself, you’ll always be looking for the exit.
So I’ve been asking myself: What can I learn from this? Because that’s really the inflection point we’re all standing at, over and over again.
We either grow. Or we fall back into old patterns. There isn’t really neutral ground.
So for me, the question isn’t “Why did this happen?” The better question is: What is this trying to teach me?
Can you relate? Are you scanning for what’s next instead of staying present? Are you collecting evidence instead of doing the work?
This isn’t about forcing yourself to stay in the wrong situation. It’s about noticing the pattern.
Sometimes the work isn’t finding the right person (or job, or living situation, or car, etc.). Sometimes the work is becoming the kind of person who can stay and learn and grow.
Love,
Zak