Why You Haven’t Met “The One”

I’ve been in so many different places when it comes to love. I’ve been the woman chasing mixed signals, the one confusing chaos for passion, the one leaning into peace but calling it “boring,” and the one who finally raised her standards high enough that she could no longer settle.

So when people say, “Why can’t I find the right person?” I understand it. I’ve lived it. But I’ve also learned that the reasons we struggle to meet “the one” often have less to do with luck and more to do with our patterns, our healing, and the reality of the dating pool.

Familiarity vs. Healthy Love (25%)

Back in 2019, I dated someone for about three months. At the time, my most intense relationship had been with Gemini—it was passionate, magnetic, and unforgettable. So when I started seeing this new guy, I expected to feel the same spark. He was attractive, kind, and genuinely interested in me. On paper, he was everything I should have wanted.

But I didn’t feel it. To be honest, I thought he was… boring. I kept asking myself, Why don’t I like him as much as I should?

The turning point came during our first and only disagreement. Instead of shutting down or lashing out, he calmly told me how he felt. He didn’t just say, “You upset me.” He explained where the feeling came from, what insecurity it touched, and why it mattered. He was vulnerable. And for the first time, I couldn’t argue with someone’s feelings—I could only empathize.

Looking back, that moment changed everything. It taught me that what I thought was “boring” was actually peace. I wasn’t anxious, I wasn’t guessing, I wasn’t walking on eggshells. I was safe. That safety allowed emotional intimacy to grow in a way I’d never experienced before.

And it hit me: so many people don’t know how to do this. Instead of saying, “Hey, when you did this, it hurt me. Here’s why,” they’d rather blame, withdraw, or project. Vulnerability takes courage, but it also creates closeness.

That relationship didn’t last—he eventually moved to Texas—but to this day, it’s still one of the only times I’ve felt truly safe with a man. What I once called boring, I now recognize as the quiet foundation of healthy love.

Chemistry vs. Anxiety (20%)

For a long time, I confused my anxiety for attraction. With Gemini, I thought the butterflies in my stomach, the overthinking, and the constant daydreaming meant I was deeply in love. But really, it was his mixed messages that created that adrenaline rush. I wasn’t enjoying my life while dating him—I was hyper-focused on him. My energy went into questioning where we stood, reading into his actions, and trying to stabilize something that was never consistent.

That wasn’t love. It was anxiety.

When I finally dated someone who was transparent about what he wanted and how he felt, I realized the difference. Suddenly, I wasn’t consumed by the “what ifs.” I wasn’t glued to my phone waiting for a response. The butterflies were gone—but so was the anxiety. What I used to call passion was really just instability.

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: chemistry is real, and you can’t fake it. But chemistry alone isn’t enough. I can recognize it quickly now—sometimes in just a couple of weeks. The real question is: am I willing to sacrifice my peace for it?

Because here’s the truth—chemistry isn’t a one-time miracle. It doesn’t only happen with one person in a lifetime. After Gemini, I thought I’d never feel that intensity again. But when I met Aquarius, I did. The difference was that Aquarius pursued me with consistency and intention. That showed me the difference between chemistry that’s built on chaos and chemistry that’s grounded in effort and security.

Now I see it clearly: butterflies are not the standard. Peace is. And if someone gives me chemistry but not clarity, they’re not my person.

Fear of Intimacy and Being Seen (15%)

For some people, being seen is terrifying. When someone is emotionally available, their love can feel like “too much,” and it makes them pull back. I’ve watched this dynamic play out—but when I look at my own patterns, I realize that I’ve usually leaned into intimacy instead of running from it.

The real issue for me hasn’t been pulling away from men who were genuine. It’s been recognizing when their version of intimacy didn’t match mine.

Take Capricorn, for example. Within a couple of weeks, I noticed mismatches between what he said and what he showed me. He told me I was beautiful, smart, and a catch—he gave me all the compliments in the world. But compliments aren’t intimacy. They aren’t pursuit. They aren’t the same thing as building an emotional foundation with me.

What I needed was effort. I needed someone who didn’t just say he respected me but actually asked, “What does respect look like to you?” Because respect is subjective—it’s not one-size-fits-all. Without that kind of curiosity, his attention felt more physical than emotional. And physical connection, as much as it can feel good in the moment, is something I can have with almost anyone. Emotional intimacy is what makes it meaningful—and that was missing.

So even though I was “a catch” in his eyes, he wasn’t really trying to catch me. And that distinction mattered. Had we built a deeper foundation, I might have stayed longer. But without it, I wasn’t afraid of intimacy—I just wasn’t willing to settle for a relationship where intimacy was never the priority.

The Pickiness Factor (15%)

I used to believe people when they said I was “picky.” I even thought the same thing about one of my friends recently, until I realized that what looks like pickiness from the outside is often just discernment.

There’s a difference between rejecting people for shallow reasons and recognizing when someone simply doesn’t meet your needs. After my last relationship, I learned what it feels like to be pursued wholeheartedly. To be treated like family. To feel wanted, prioritized, and chosen. Once you’ve felt that, it’s hard to unsee it. You know what’s possible, and you’re not willing to settle for less.

That doesn’t mean I expect perfection. I know I’m not perfect either. I’m willing to adjust how I communicate, the tone I use, or the way I handle conflict if it helps a relationship grow. Those things don’t change who I am at my core. But what I won’t do is shrink myself to fit into someone else’s version of “the perfect woman.”

With Aquarius, that was the breaking point. I never tried to change his core values or who he was as a person. But he often wanted me to change mine — to be less emotional, less outspoken, less me. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m passionate. I’m expressive. That’s who I am. And if that’s “too much” for someone, then we’re simply not aligned.

Because here’s the truth: someone who truly loves you will never ask you to change who you are at your core. They’ll ask you to grow, to soften, to stretch — but not to abandon yourself.

So no, I’m not picky. I’m clear. I want a partner who sees me fully and loves me as I am, while encouraging me to become the best version of myself. Anything less isn’t love. It’s compromise at the cost of my identity. And I’m no longer willing to pay that price.

The Dating Pool Reality (20%)

Attachment research shows that in the general population:

• ~50–55% of people are securely attached

• ~20% are anxious-preoccupied

• ~25% are avoidant or disorganized

That sounds promising at first glance — half secure! But many of those secure individuals are already partnered. Which means that in the single pool, the percentages shift: you’re statistically more likely to come across avoidant or unhealed attachment styles than truly secure ones.

That’s why dating after healing can feel discouraging. It’s not that your standards are “too high” — it’s that you’re filtering for what’s actually rare.

Avoiding Self-Work (5%)

Another huge reason people don’t find “the one” is simple: they refuse to do the inner work.

I saw this play out with Aquarius. Whenever I pointed out patterns in our relationship, instead of reflecting inward, he took it as an attack. There was no curiosity, no moment of, “Let me sit with that and see if it’s true.” Therapy wasn’t an option for him — not because he couldn’t access it, but because he didn’t believe he needed it.

But here’s the truth: if you’re the only one pointing out issues in a relationship, of course there’s going to be a bias. That’s why self-work matters — because without it, every partner you meet becomes “the problem,” instead of a mirror.

At the end of the day, love isn’t about finding someone flawless or perfectly healed. It’s about finding someone willing to look inward, to grow, and to meet you in the work of building something real. I’ve learned through every stage—chaos, butterflies, peace, mismatches, discernment—that the “one” isn’t just discovered, they’re co-created. And until both people are ready to face themselves with honesty, even the strongest chemistry or deepest attraction won’t last. I’d rather wait for that kind of partnership than lose myself trying to turn avoidance into intimacy.