Personally, I spent years holding out for a certain kind of guy. My target demographic was mostly just reasonably attractive men who were more confident than I was. I wanted to be set at ease by someone else’s self-assured behavior. I wanted to be wildly attracted straight out of the gate. I wanted to be slightly ignored. I wanted a reason to work hard. I liked hard work! I liked running after someone who was superior! As the youngest child in a family of smart, aloof humans, that felt like home to me. But being noticed by someone who seemed as uncertain as I was? That felt uncomfortable and unwelcome. When a guy actually appeared invested in what I thought of him, that was like being lost on Mars. What am I supposed to do now? I felt self-conscious and put on the spot. There was no hard work to busy myself with! My attraction would dry up around all that freezing red dust. It all seems so simple now. I chased the same thing in friends; I went for aloof, too-cool types and ignored anyone who was actually paying attention to me and listening closely. I wanted to follow people around, cracking jokes, inserting insights, launching into extended monologues occasionally. It wasn’t really about being present and connecting so much as feeling half-invisible but useful. I put pressure on my friends, but I couldn’t withstand the slightest bit of pressure myself. I’m bringing friendships into this because I think a lot of women put off tackling any friendship problems until they’ve sewed up their primary love relationship. And typically, a lot of the confusion and bewilderment that’s ruling your love life also dominates your friendships. But to be clear, the goal isn’t necessarily to change what you (instinctively, impulsively, or even dysfunctionally) desire. The goal is to understand and sometimes accept what appeals to you and why it appeals to you, and then to make a little more space to investigate, to remain open to new varietals of human being. That doesn’t mean fighting your truest desires. It means opening your heart to a wider range of humans, not just because that’s a noble goal and it makes your life more interesting, but because it will help to transform you into a less rigid person. Being rigid doesn’t just affect how you view other people. Being rigid affects how you view and define yourself. You can occupy a rigid, unforgiving space for the sake of fun, or comfort, or creativity. I endorse that practice wholeheartedly. I love hating people, places, and things for fun and profit. But it’s important to stretch and grow, too. It’s important to reach past what you naturally love, what you were born loving. It’s important to open your eyes to the full range of human experience. It’s important to really hear people when they talk instead of letting your panic or distaste or disinterest color over everything. You don’t want to block out 99 percent of humans you meet. You want to see them clearly. ... Everyone needs time to get there. I think it’s great that human beings have the freedom to be asexual or anything else under the sun that feels right to them. That’s how it should be. We should all be able to describe our experiences and our needs to others without feeling judged for what we are. But I also think that our hypersexual, fast-speed culture turns people off for a very good reason. It turns people off to the point where they think they must be permanently turned off, they must not have any desire in the first place. And I just want to advocate for desire. As an overthinker who lives in her head most of the time, I want to say that desire takes time. Passion is sneaky. It’s a slow-growing vine. And panic and fear are drought conditions for that vine. Pressure sends that vine to Mars and plants it in the cold red dust. When you can take possession of your own timeline and take up space with your authentic self, everything changes. When you show up and assert yourself instead of struggling to impress, when you say exactly what you think instead of saying what you think someone wants to hear, when you gather information instead of monitoring other people’s reactions to you, the climate shifts dramatically. You are transported from the high desert to a cool, fertile coastal plain. Patience and compassion — for yourself and others — fertilize your vine. See for yourself. When there are no looming questions of “What next?” and “Right or wrong?” and “Is he about to make a move?” and “How do I seem?,” you can just tune in to another human being. You can take in the small things: The way he giggles at his own bad joke. The way he pulls on his lower lip when he’s thinking things over. When you’re calm, time slows down. You have time to think your own thoughts: What does he long for? What does he wish were different? What if we weren’t here, what if we were lying on our backs on a warm rock by the ocean, what if we were wandering through an open field? What strange and winding thoughts and feelings would unravel in the sunshine, over the course of an open-ended afternoon, if we were relaxed, if we could feel the full promise of the moment, if we could share in the glory and sadness and longing of a late afternoon in late summer? Your body needs time. Your mind needs time. Without time, feelings harden into panic. Your primary job right now is to slow down enough to wait for your most genuine self to arrive. Do you deserve so much time? You do. Will anyone be patient and wait? They will. Will you be able to see the value in the ones who can slow down, and be patient, and wait? That part is up to you. But don’t blame yourself if you can’t feel anything at first. Keep experimenting. Enjoy those long morning hours, watering the soil without expectation. Try to enjoy the wait so much that eventually, you can hardly remember what it is you’re waiting for.

https://www.thecut.com/2019/07/ask-polly-do-i-self-sabotage-when-it-comes-to-dating.html