Proof that I have always been committed to the cause 🫠

“You’re going over to the dark side,” he said, tilting his head just enough to be annoying.

I turned and hit him with a look that should’ve legally qualified as a weapon.

He chuckled, sat down at the dining room table, reached for my hand, and in that maddeningly calm voice said:

“I know the situation is dark. I know these new revelations are hard to hear. But baby… don’t let the darkness of this situation make you dark.”

And I swear to God, my soul unclenched.

Like… not fully. We’re not performing miracles here.
But enough for me to breathe again.

It has been an absolutely infuriating month and a half.

And since I cannot spend every waking second rage-cleaning, overthinking, and mentally writing Oscar-worthy confrontation speeches in the shower, I thought I’d lighten things up a bit.

So today, we are discussing one of the few bright spots in this season of emotional arson:

The Boyfriend.

No, you do not get his name. 😂
Please.
I’m vulnerable, not reckless. 👀

For someone who shares a lot about her life, keeping him private these last few months has felt… sacred. Like carrying around a tiny emotional talisman in my pocket. Mine. Protected. Untouched by the internet’s weird little fingers.

And honestly? I’ve liked that.

Now, before anyone starts romanticizing “meeting the right person in the middle of your breakdown,” let me say this:

I do not generally recommend dating in traumatic seasons.

When you’re hurting, you don’t always choose what’s healthy.
Sometimes you choose what’s familiar.
And unfortunately, “familiar” has sent many of us straight into the arms of emotionally unavailable people with great eyebrows.

But one of the reasons this relationship has felt different is because this didn’t start in chaos.

He’s seen me through some hard seasons since we became friends in 2022, after I moved to Michigan. And while I don’t think every relationship has to start in the friendship zone, I do think every healthy relationship needs a layer of friendship underneath it.

Because eventually, attraction has to share a room with real life.

Bills.
Grief.
Fatigue.
Bad moods.
Body changes.
Unhealed triggers.
The fact that one of you will absolutely say “I’m fine” in a tone that means the exact opposite.

Friendship is what makes love survivable.

And because of that-

I awarded him a green flag.

Green Flag #2: He doesn’t just witness hard things – he helps me stay myself inside them.

Let’s go back to the “dark side” moment.

Did you catch it?

He didn’t dismiss what I was feeling.
He didn’t “positive mindset” me into a wall.
He didn’t throw me a lazy “everything happens for a reason,” which is honestly just violence in a cardigan.

He validated the darkness of the situation without encouraging me to become dark in response.

That is emotional maturity.

And it matters because one of the most dangerous things about pain is how persuasive it can be. Pain will have you believing bitterness is wisdom. Cynicism is discernment. Isolation is strength.

It’s not.

Sometimes it’s just untreated hurt in a leather jacket.

His steady presence – first as a friend, then as something more – helped move us from friendship into relationship not because he “rescued” me, but because he was consistent.

And consistency, my friends, is hot.
Underrated, deeply unsexy-on-paper, life-changing consistency.

And because of that…….Green flag awarded.

Green Flag #3: We compliment the hell out of each other – and not in a shallow way.

Now let’s talk about the picture.

The one above?
Yes, that one.

Fun fact: that was originally a photo he had sent to an old girlfriend.

And in one of my earliest and finest performances as a top-tier wing-woman, I encouraged him to send it because he looked proud, confident, and frankly… offensively good in it.

Then I got promoted from wing-woman to girlfriend and immediately updated my position to:

“Actually, please never stop sending photos. Thank you for your service.”

Growth.

But here’s what I really love about this part of us:

We are very, very good at complimenting each other.
And not just when the lighting is flattering and our hormones are cooperating.

In a world where both women and men are constantly being evaluated like overripe produce, we’ve had a lot of conversations about bodies, attraction, aging, and how quickly surface-level beauty becomes boring if there’s no tenderness attached to it.

Do I still think he looks good?
Absolutely. Disrespectfully so.

But what I love more is this:

We’ve learned to appreciate each other in the deeply unglamorous realities of adulthood.

Bloated.
Exhausted.
Sweaty from work.
Cranky.
Stomach making haunted house noises.
And whatever fresh betrayal your metabolism cooks up in your mid-to-late 40s.

He can make me feel sexy in a potato sack with no makeup on… and also in the outfit I strategically bought with very clear intentions.

That matters.

Because real intimacy isn’t just “you’re hot.”
It’s “I delight in you when life is deeply uncurated.”

And because of that- Green flag awarded.

Green Flag #4: He knows when I need space… and when I need pursuit.

At one point, I texted:

“Seriously, I just cannot have this conversation.”

And he texted back:

“Okay.”

Then he called me.

Which, on paper, should have irritated me.
And yet – it didn’t.

Why?

Because emotionally intelligent people learn something a lot of us only discover after years of therapy, bad dating, and one emotionally catastrophic situationship:

Not every “leave me alone” means the same thing.

Sometimes “I need space” means I need space.
Sometimes it means I am overwhelmed and don’t know how to ask….to be handled gently.

There is an ebb and flow to loving people well.

A surfer knows when to ride and when to wait.
A musician knows how to find rhythm where other people only hear noise.
And the people who love us best?
They learn how to read us beneath the words we throw out in self-protection.

He is very good at seeing past my immediate reaction without bulldozing my boundaries.

That distinction matters.

Because healthy love is not controlling.
But it is attentive.

He doesn’t give up easily on me – but he also doesn’t overpower me.

That is a rare and beautiful balance.

And because of that- Green flag awarded.

Green Flag #5: He understands that love and therapy are not the same job.

This one?
This one deserves a standing ovation.

At one point, I said:

“You know I would do anything for you. But babe, this is not a conversation I can be a part of. Not because I don’t understand. Not because I can’t see your side. But because I cannot be your lover and your therapist. Those roles have to be separate.”

Reader, I almost stood up and saluted myself with these amazing boundaries – but the respect he showed for these boundaries – makes me weak in the knees!!!

Because THIS – right here – is where so many relationships quietly start to rot.

We start asking one person to be everything.

Lover.
Therapist.
Parent.
Life coach.
Crisis manager.
Emotional support human.
Warden with occasional conjugal privileges.

And then we wonder why the relationship starts feeling heavy, resentful, and weirdly unsexy.

You cannot thrive in a relationship where roles are constantly getting blurred.

You can’t be a wife and then mother your husband.
You can’t be a partner and then become your person’s unpaid clinician.
You can’t build romance while also running emotional rehab out of your kitchen.

Your role is partner.

That’s already a big job.

A healthy partner supports, encourages, challenges, comforts, and tells you when you’re spiraling into nonsense.
But they also know when something belongs in the hands of a therapist, a coach, a mentor, a pastor, a journal, a long walk, or a full emotional exorcism in your car.

And honestly? That boundary didn’t push me away from him.
It made me trust him more.

Because people who can hold boundaries are often the safest people to love.

And because of that- guess what?!?

Green flag awarded.

What I’m learning in all of this

This season has been dark.
Heavy.
Disappointing.
Revealing in all the ways I did not ask for.

But one of the things I’m grateful for is this:

It has also made it easier to see what is healthy.

Not flashy.
Not performative.
Not “I wrote you a paragraph after emotionally confusing you for six business days.”

Just healthy.

And what I’m finding is that green flags are often much quieter than red ones.

They don’t usually arrive with fireworks.
They arrive with steadiness.
With boundaries.
With gentleness.
With emotional regulation.
With someone who can look at your chaos and say:

“I see this is hard.
But I’m not going to help you become someone you’re not.”

And honestly?
That kind of love feels like light.

So yes, while I cannot promise you love, healing, or a man with emotional range and a fully developed frontal lobe…

I can tell you this:

If he validates your feelings, respects your boundaries, hypes you up in a potato sack, and knows he is not your therapist?

Baby, keep him.

With all my love, xoxo J