Let’s be honest: somewhere between the rise of attachment theory TikToks, emotionally unavailable exes, and dating app burnout, a lot of us stopped going on dates to connect—and started going on dates to diagnose.

You know the script. They say something a little avoidant and your brain whispers: “Fearful-avoidant attachment, possible mother wound, maybe a repressed inner child.” You smile. Nod. Meanwhile, your nervous system goes into triage mode.

We’ve all become mini therapists, trained not through clinical practice, but through heartbreak and hyper-awareness. We listen for red flags. We categorize love languages. We analyze texting patterns like FBI agents on a wire. And we walk into dates less like someone who wants to fall in love, and more like someone preparing for an emotional autopsy.

It makes sense. You’ve been hurt. You’ve done the work. You’re self-aware. You know what a boundary is and how to set it (in your notes app, if not always out loud). You’ve read the books. Booked the sessions. Healed the patterns. Or at least tried.

But now you’re sitting across from someone on a first date and instead of asking, “Do we have chemistry?” you’re asking:

• “Is this person emotionally safe?”

• “Are they regulated?”

• “Have they integrated their trauma?”

• “Are they even aware of their ego death?”

And while those questions aren’t inherently wrong… they’re not always right for the moment. Because you’re not their therapist. You’re not their coach. You’re not their mirror. You’re not their fixer. You’re a human being. Sitting across from another human being. On a date. Trying to feel something real. And somewhere along the way, we lost that. Grab a glass of wine, and let me explain why it’s not your job to fix, analyze, or emotionally coach the person sitting across from you…

You can’t date someone’s potential. And you’re definitely not here to shape it.

When we approach dating like an emotional evaluation, we miss the actual person in front of us. We stop listening with our hearts and start analyzing with our brains. We become so busy interpreting what’s said that we forget to feel what’s happening. We become so focused on seeing the red flags that we miss the green ones waving quietly in the wind.

And here’s the truth no one really wants to say: the second you start coaching someone through the date, you’re no longer on it. The second you begin managing their nervous system, you’ve abandoned your own. And the moment you become the safe space for them, you’ve given up the chance to see if they’re capable of being one for you.

Curiosity ≠ Clinical Assessment.

Yes—ask good questions. Yes—be intentional. Yes—know what you want. But also: laugh. Flirt. Notice how your body feels when they talk. Pay attention to how you breathe around them. Are you relaxed? Do you feel seen? Do they ask anything about you? Or are you just their latest sounding board? You’re not cold for not wanting to be someone’s therapist. You’re not cruel for not being willing to teach someone how to show up. You’re not high maintenance for wanting emotional maturity to already exist, not become your shared six-month project.

Love isn’t a workshop. It’s a connection.

This doesn’t mean abandon compassion. It doesn’t mean we expect perfection. But it does mean you’re allowed to walk away from someone who makes you feel like a counselor instead of a partner. It means that not every emotionally raw confession is intimacy—it might be a boundary test. It means that just because someone is honest about their flaws doesn’t mean they’re working on them. And most of all: it means you don’t have to earn love by being emotionally useful.

At the end of the day, you deserve to be chosen for who you are, not how well you understand someone else’s pain. So take the weight off. Put the clipboard down. Let go of being the safe space, the translator, the fixer, the container. Start dating like a human. Messy. Curious. Open. Grounded. Deserving. Until next time x