Maybe It’s Me, And I’m Finally Ok With That

Earlier today, a coworker casually asked me about my recent dating experience. Without overthinking it, I said what I’ve said before: he was too needy.

She smiled and said, “You know… you said the same thing about the last person you dated.”

I laughed. But this time, instead of brushing it off, I paused. And for the first time, I said out loud, “Maybe it’s me.”

That thought stayed with me longer than I expected. So later, out of curiosity, I decided to look inward instead of outward. I asked myself, and yes, ChatGPT, what kind of attachment style I actually have.

Because here’s the truth: I genuinely love love. I love the beginning of a connection. I love meeting someone new, the conversations that flow easily, the curiosity, the excitement of learning someone’s mind. That stage feels light, fun, alive.

But there’s a very specific moment when something shifts for me.

It’s when the connection stops feeling like two people choosing each other and starts feeling like someone attaching themselves to me emotionally. When all of my time is suddenly expected. When from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep, I feel like I have to be “on.” When my life quietly becomes someone else’s routine.

That’s when I feel myself pulling back.

I don’t find it romantic when someone doesn’t have a full life of their own. When their interests fade, their world shrinks, and everything begins to revolve around me. Instead of feeling desired, I feel responsible. Instead of feeling connected, I feel drained. And if I’m being honest, it becomes deeply unattractive to me.

What surprised me most is that this doesn’t come from fear. I’m not afraid of intimacy. I don’t avoid closeness. What I avoid is enmeshment.

The attachment style that best describes me is often referred to as secure-avoidant, someone who values emotional connection but also deeply values autonomy. Someone who wants love, but not at the cost of losing themselves. Someone who thrives in relationships where closeness is intentional, not automatic.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this isn’t limited to romantic relationships at all.

I’ve never been the person who needs to see the same friend every single day. I’ve had the same close circle of friends my entire life, but I’ve always valued space. Even with family, whom I adore, I can happily spend a day or two together, but by the third day, I crave time alone. Not because I don’t love them, but because that’s how I stay grounded in who I am.

That’s just my nature.

What I’ve come to understand is that I haven’t yet found someone whose rhythm truly matches mine, someone who enjoys their own company, has their own passions, their own routines, their own inner world. Someone who doesn’t need me to fill every space, but still chooses to share space with me.

I don’t want distance.
I don’t want constant closeness either.

I want balance.

I want a relationship where two independent people walk alongside each other, not one person becoming the other’s entire world. I want connection without pressure, love without obligation, and intimacy that feels chosen every day, not assumed.

So maybe it is me.

And maybe that doesn’t mean something is wrong.

Maybe it just means I know myself now.