Learning Over Lusting

Recently, someone from my past reappeared.

Years ago, when we first started dating, I genuinely liked him. He was intentional. He planned dates. He picked me up. He brought flowers. There was effort.

Until there wasn’t.

Over time, the relationship became increasingly centered around physical attraction and sexual tension. As that happened, something else seemed to decline: his effort.

The less interested I was in rushing into something physical, the less interested he seemed in pursuing me.

Eventually, I left.

Not because I didn’t like him.

Not because I wasn’t attracted to him.

But because I had begun to suspect that what he wanted from me and what I wanted from him were two different things.

Recently, he reached out again.

And to be honest, I wasn’t looking to rekindle anything serious. I wasn’t imagining a future together. I wasn’t trying to turn an old flame into a new relationship.

I was curious.

Had he changed?

Had I?

Was I remembering things correctly?

Sometimes we revisit old situations hoping for a different ending. Other times, we revisit them to see if we’ve learned the lesson.

Within a few hours, I had my answer.

The same dynamic that caused me to leave years ago was still there.

And strangely enough, I wasn’t sad.

I was relieved.

Because for years, I might have mistaken attraction for compatibility.

I might have convinced myself that chemistry was enough.

I might have ignored the ways someone’s actions stopped matching their words because I enjoyed the attention, the excitement, or the possibility of what could be.

But this time, I noticed something different.

I wasn’t interested in proving I was desirable.

I already know I am.

I wasn’t interested in being chosen.

I was interested in being known.

I wanted to know whether he was curious about my mind, my life, my dreams, my routines, and the person I’ve become.

I wanted to know whether effort could exist without the promise of physical access.

Because that’s what I’m looking for now.

Not perfection.

Not grand gestures.

Not endless passion.

I want consistency.

I want thoughtfulness.

I want someone who remembers the little things.

Someone who knows my coffee order.

Someone who can choose a restaurant and know I’ll enjoy it.

Someone who pays attention.

Someone who sees me as a whole person.

For a long time, I thought lust was a sign of connection.

Now I think curiosity is.

Lust asks, “What can I get from you?”

Curiosity asks, “Who are you?”

And these days, I’m far more interested in the second question.

The beautiful thing about growth is that sometimes you don’t need closure from another person.

Sometimes life simply gives you a second look at an old situation and allows you to see it clearly.

Not so you can go back.

But so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.