the end of butterflies

everything I knew about love was wrong

Light drips down the floor-to-ceiling windows of our apartment.

Across the courtyard, lights switch on like popcorn popping. I stand up from the dinner table and flip ours on too. The living room melts into a glowing warm yellow. 

He clears our plates and then we both sprawl on the couch. We sit in that middle moment, full from dinner but too early to go to bed. I’ve come to treasure this part of our daily routine, discussing everything that transpired over the day as we digest.  

He reaches over to pull me into a hug. I rest my forehead on his chest and close my eyes. My temple fits perfectly on his heart. I breathe in, my deepest breath of the day.

As I exhale, I feel the day drain out of me. 

My whole body downshifts like I’ve been pedaling against wet cement to get to the top of a hill. In his arms, everything unlocks. I’m cresting over the summit and soaring down it.

Effortlessly, easily, my nervous system releases. 

Space sinks into all the places in my body, like my lungs are expanding and my shoulders are settling.

I am safe. I am home. 

Every time this happens, it leaves me speechless. This state of comfort is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It’s funny, because every love story talks about butterflies. But no one talks about this.

If I had known this is what I should look for when dating, maybe I would have spent twenty-five years with my eyes on a different target.

Yet, I looked to love stories that championed the elusive, brooding genius who changes their ways for the perfect person. How their relationship starts with a look across the bar or a whirlwind summer romance. It was always fireworks and butterflies.

In hindsight, it’s clear that these signals weren’t working for me.

Like the movies, I sought out interesting people who I thought I could win over. But it never worked like I hoped.

I’d chase after them, growing increasingly more anxious until I’d pull away in a last ditch effort to make them want me. Finally I’d break and reach out to them to call it quits, but they had already moved on to something else.

This pattern played out over and over again. By twenty-five, I knew that something needed to change. I needed to date differently. But how to do that, I had no idea. 

I tried everything. Therapy. Self-help books. I even considered going to an adult sleep-away camp called “break-up bootcamp” to get myself right.

In the wake of one particularly tumultuous failed situationship, a friend recommended the book Attached by Dr. Amir Levine and Rachel Heller. 

To my understanding, attachment styles are a way of explaining patterns in our romantic relationships by linking them to our earliest childhood relationships.

The book outlines three attachment styles: (Source: Attached website)

• Secure Attachment Style: Relationships come more naturally to them. They are great at communicating their needs and feelings.

• Anxious Attachment Style: Love to be very close to their partner and have the capacity for a lot of intimacy. However, they often fear that their partner does not want to be as close as they would like and can be very sensitive to small fluctuations in their partner’s moods.

• Avoidant Attachment Style: Feel the need to maintain their independence. Even though they want to be in a relationship, they tend to keep their partner at arm’s length.

As I read about the tendencies of anxiously attached people, my face burned. The description was startlingly accurate.

Reading it was a relief. I didn’t feel so alone. Finally, I had clarity around why dating was so miserable.

If I’m prone to worrying about my relationship and need more communication, I shouldn’t seek out people who feel suffocated by the closeness I craved.

I was dating the wrong kind of person. That was obvious. But seeking out a different type of person seemed like a temporary solution.

I should fix myself.

The goal would be to become secure, so then I could date anyone. I looked for the answer.

What can I do to become securely attached? 

Apparently, nothing.

Well, nothing by myself. 

The authors basically said that it’d be nearly impossible to change my attachment style alone. 

The most effective way for an anxiously attached person to become more securely attached is to date a securely attached person. 

Well, this is where I got pissed. 

Look, author, if there was a single, tall, handsome, smart, kind, securely attached person who wanted to date me, I'd love to meet them. But have you ever dated in New York City? Obviously not. 

Needing to be in a healthier relationship to make your relationships healthier felt like a catch-22. Like an entry level job where you need six years of experience. If I had higher standards, I wouldn’t need to be raising my standards.

What was I going to do? Ask someone point blank if they have a secure attachment style? (Spoiler: I tried this. It was not a very effective method of vetting.)

This conundrum shook me. It felt like a damning diagnosis that I would be stuck in dating disasters forever. Halfheartedly, I continued going on dates, sure that history would repeat itself.

But something changed. Awareness cleared my vision. I began to observe patterns that I had never seen before.

Then the light bulb went off.

Figuring out someone’s attachment style was actually much easier than I thought. It had a lot less to do with what they said about themselves, and everything to do with how I felt around them.

There was actually a screaming bright red signal right in front of my eyes that warned me I shouldn’t go further.

Butterflies.

Every time I had butterflies before a date, I had taken that to be a green light. Romance! Chemistry! But then I started to notice that any relationship that started with intense fireworks on the first date actually blew up into flames a few weeks after.

What I thought was excitement was actually fear. 

Around the same time I learned this, I also decided to stop drinking. This awareness coupled with sobriety was like pouring Miracle Grow on a garden that’s perfectly poised to grow. Without dulling my senses with alcohol, I could immediately discern exactly what was happening in my body on a first date. 

Nearly overnight, I began to seek out a different type of person.

Then Gustavo walked into my life. 

From the moment I met him, there were never any games. He was comfortable saying that he wanted a committed relationship from the very beginning. The clarity gave me peace. There was no guessing or pulling away, trying to make him chase after me. We have been on the same page since we met. 

Crazy as it sounds, I think the authors were right about what it takes to change an attachment style.

He has a secure attachment style (which I know because it’s obvious, but also because I asked him to take the quiz). Our relationship has helped me become less anxious, in a way that has never happened before.

More than that, I’m seeing the benefits of feeling truly safe in a relationship. I’m able to speak my mind and vocalize my needs. I don’t avoid conflict because I’m afraid of him leaving. Each time we disagree, he shows me how conflict can actually lead to intimacy and a healthier relationship.

That’s not to say I don’t still get anxious sometimes.

He lovingly calls me Shakespeare, as I have been known to invent creative reasons as to why he might be mad at me. I tell him these worries and we laugh, draining the energy out of my anxiety. With time, I know that this sort of thinking will dissipate. I’m grateful to grow in this way with his help. 

It is the greatest miracle that we met when we did. When I was ready to meet him and could recognize what it was as it was happening.

When I stopped looking for butterflies, I ran in the exact opposite direction of everything I thought I knew about love.

Thank God I did.

Rejecting butterflies landed me exactly where I needed to be. In this dreamy, comfortable, safe haven that is my forever home.