I Stopped Performing on Dates
I won’t perform for anyone anymore.
I just want to be myself. To stop pretending and performing to win the approval of others. I want connection that grows naturally, not that is carefully negotiated.
For years, I showed up on dates as a curated version of myself. Best outfit. Think about what to talk about beforehand. Prepared stories at the ready. I took women to the finest restaurants and feigned interest even when I felt nothing about the topic. Both of us silently grading each other, wondering if the other was worth a second round of this.
I dated women I found dazzling. I chased hard. I went big. And it works. At least for a while. One year I sent 144 roses. She loved it. The next year, it barely registered. The hedonic treadmill kicked in as always. Now it was expected. Always grander gestures. More elaborate dates. More proof that I was devoted. The hedonic treadmill never stopped.
That wasn’t connection. That was worship. Me as the knight, her as the princess on the pedestal. Me doing all the work while she decided if I deserved to stay.
I was exhausted and ultimately unhappy.
I don’t do that anymore.
Now when someone comes over, there’s no grand plan. No dinner reservation with a carefully chosen ambiance. No carefully picked wine bar for drinks after.
I start off with whatever I feel is interesting to me. Maybe I show her my candle making setup. The colors, the scents, the tools. If she’s into it, we make candles. If not, we try something else. Maybe we flip through old yearbooks and marvel at the old fashions. Cook something. Go for a walk or a run. Watch a show. Talk until we lose track of time. Sex if the mood hits. Try a game or puzzle neither of us has done before.
It might be an interest one of us already has. It might be something we both want to explore. The point is we’re finding it together, in real time.
We’re not executing a date. We’re exploring shared space.
Anyone can say “I’m bored of this, let’s do something else” at any moment. And the rule is that anyone can leave at any time for any reason. That’s not rude. That’s honest. And we move on because the goal isn’t to finish the activity. The goal is to stay engaged with each other.
No hard feelings. No pretending.
The paradox: when there’s no pressure to stay, people actually want to. When you’re not trapped in a restaurant booth feigning interest you don’t feel, you can relax. Be yourself. And suddenly three hours have passed and neither of you noticed. They don’t have to have their friend call and pretend an emergency if things aren’t going well, they just leave.
Without the performances to decode, commitment, trust, and intimacy build quickly.
Some people won’t like this. They stay away. Good. That’s cleaner for both of us. No one wastes time pretending we’re after the same thing when we aren’t.
I used to worry about the impression I was making. Now it’s just “is this fun?”
Someone who can laugh, get bored, and suggest something else, and say what she wants without scripting it. Someone who is willing to build the evening with me instead of waiting to be entertained.
I’m no longer a knight looking for a quest. I’m no longer a hero looking for someone to save. I’m just paying attention to what happens when we’re in the same room building the next step together.
Kids know how to do this.
They show up at a playground or someone’s house with one loose idea: see what happens. One says “Want to see my favorite thing?” They try it. Maybe it lands, maybe it doesn’t. They move on. Toys, sandbox, made up games, just talking. The structure isn’t decided beforehand. They find it together and change it whenever they want.
Sometimes they leave as friends. Sometimes one kid realizes the other only wants to control the game, not explore together. Either way, they learned something true.
Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we turned that into negotiation. Into performance. Into an interview. Into proving we are worth being chosen.
I’m done with that.
I’m not auditioning anymore. I’m not trying to earn my way into someone’s life by putting on the perfect show. I have candles to make. Dawns to see. Markets in distant countries to visit. Early morning runs through foreign cities to enjoy. Family to admire for their competence and good humor. A world to improve.
It starts with play. With a joy for being alive and seeing what the shared space can bring. To see what grows from there. To see who I become with someone, and who she becomes with me, when no one is performing.
Troy Lowry is finally learning to stop performing. Read more at LowryOnLeadership.com.
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