The Reality Of Meeting Someone Right When You’ve Always Chosen People Who Are Wrong


Unfamiliar. Strange. Uncomfortable. Fearful. Curious. Questioning.

These are all words that came to my mind meeting him.

It was like all the time before, I knew I deserved better but there was something about choosing people and choosing to partake in stories I knew the ending to.

When I pinned after the wrong people it was there I found an odd sense of control knowing how the story would be written.

The scariest stories are the ones you don’t know the endings too. The ones where love rewrites everything you once had planned for yourself. Suddenly someone new enters the pictures and changes everything.

I think that’s what I feared most. So this same thing I claimed I wanted was the also this thing I never gave a chance to.

While it hurt to watch a recurring theme of failed relationships there was something familiar about it.

The truth was I didn’t have horrible taste in people I just was a creature of habit.

It was something I accepted and almost oddly welcomed. For so long I thought maybe love wasn’t mine to be had. Maybe there are some people who are supposed to be alone. Some people simply meant to help others fill voids as they break themselves to make others whole.

Maybe my role was simply to heal others at the cost or hurting myself more.

When you walk around feeling so broken you begin to learn how to function without some essentials pieces other people have.

I looked at happy couples both envious but knowing it might not be in the cards for me.

I knew half-hearted love stories that all ended the same way.

I was used to people leaving without even saying goodbye.

Almost relationships and pining after people who wouldn’t commit became regular to me.

I was used to conversations ending midway as I sent double texts.

I was used to being ignored. Even when I gave them my full attention.

I was used to the games and confusion.

And never being a priority, even when I made them mine.

I pinned after love in the hearts of people I knew were emotionally unavailable because I knew if I chose them and they didn’t choose me I could pin it on them.

But the reality was it was me doing this to myself.

So when I met someone new who wasn’t like everyone else what threw me off was how to even act in a normal relationship?

It was someone choosing me first.

It was someone starting every conversation.

It was every text and call saying good morning or good night.

It was talking on the phone sober when all I was used to were fuckboys blowing up my phone at 2 AM.

It was making plans that didn’t fall through and someone keeping their word.

It was me not having to do so much work and someone meeting me halfway.

It was talking to someone throughout my entire day.

It was watching someone become a part of my routine when all I was used to was doing my own thing and not answering to anyway.

It was watching me fall knowing very well this time someone would catch me.

You think that would be met with a sigh of relief but it was.

I was scared.

Initially, this was met with rejection.

Pushing him away every time he stepped closer.

Why is he acting like this?

Why is he saying this?

What does he want?

I was used to people always taking and wanting something from me and me trying to give it to them.

Physically or emotionally. Simply trying to be what someone needed always.

But all he wanted from me was my time and attention.


The love I wasn’t sure I could give.

It was holding back tears as he held me close.

It was freezing when he asked, “are you okay?”

It was not being able to speak when he asked, “did I do something wrong?”

No. You’re doing everything right.

More thoughts that ran through my mind was thinking this was weird.

But what I came to realize was, this was normal.

What was weird wasn’t being treated the way I deserved but tolerating and accepting when I wasn’t, for so.

Sometimes even the pain we cause ourselves and the pain others cause us gets replaced with a love so deep and unfamiliar it touches the deepest parts of our core and it’s there we begin to heal. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

About the author

Kirsten Corley

Writer living in Hoboken, NJ with my 2 dogs.

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