Perhaps I should have asked what kind of life I actually want to share with him

By Regine Rauin | When Rooms Tell Stories

The classic dating question is:

“What should my ideal man be like?”

Tall?

Intelligent?

Funny?

Loyal?

Adventurous?

Emotionally available?

Perhaps with a beard.

Or without one.

Perhaps with enough hair to make the matter interesting.

We make lists.

We write down qualities.

We imagine the sort of person we ought to be looking for.

And then we go out and search for him.

I now think we have the order wrong.

Because the more important question isn’t:

“Who should he be?”

It is:

“How do I actually want to live?”

It sounds like a tiny distinction.

It isn’t.

Because once I ask how I want to live, the whole question changes.

I’m no longer simply thinking about characteristics.

I’m thinking about an actual life.

 

I want to wake up beside someone who isn’t already emotionally halfway out of the door.

I want to be able to say:

“Come on, let’s go somewhere.”

And have him not require a three-week planning meeting.

I want someone who doesn’t think my fascination with strange houses, art, travel or completely unnecessary adventures is evidence of mild insanity.

Quite the opposite.

Ideally, he finds it rather wonderful.

I want someone who wants to discover things.

Who can cook.

Who can walk into an unusual house with me and say:

“What on earth is this place?”

rather than:

“Why are we here?”

I want someone with whom I can experience things.

Not someone I have to entertain.

Not someone I have to persuade.

Not someone I have to drag out of his own life before we can have one together.

 

And suddenly, finding a partner becomes much more concrete.

Because I’m no longer looking for a man with twelve desirable qualities.

I’m looking for someone whose way of living is compatible with mine.

That is a completely different thing.

A man can be wonderful.

And still not be right for my life.

He can be intelligent.

Loyal.

Attractive.

Funny.

And still want to spend every Saturday on the sofa watching football while I’m off exploring an abandoned villa somewhere.

Neither of us has done anything wrong.

We simply have different ideas of what makes a good life.

That isn’t a red flag.

That’s architecture.

The floor plan simply doesn’t work.

And sometimes that is far more liberating than declaring someone the problem.

 

Perhaps this is what we get wrong about dating.

We look for a person and hope that, afterwards, our lives will somehow fit together.

Maybe we should reverse it.

First the life. Then the person.

What sort of people do I want around me?

What conversations do I want to have?

What do I want to discover?

Where do I want to go?

How do I want my evenings to feel?

How much closeness do I need?

How much freedom?

How much adventure?

How much peace?

And then comes the really interesting question:

What kind of person would make this life bigger rather than smaller?

That is a very different dating question.

Not:

“Is he good enough?”

But:

“Does this life fit both of us?”

 

And suddenly something becomes wonderfully simple.

I don’t have to convince anyone.

I don’t have to rescue anyone.

I don’t have to persuade anyone to understand my vision of life.

I can simply look.

And if someone appears and I think:

“Oh. Life with you could be interesting.”

I can be curious.

No more.

No less.

Perhaps the point isn’t to find the perfect person.

Perhaps it is to create a life in which the right person actually has room to exist.

And that leads to a rather interesting question:

 

 

Where do you go when you want to live exactly that sort of life?

About the Author

I'm Regine Rauin, also known as Mystic Maveress.

I read rooms the way other people read tarot cards.

And every now and then...

...I write a book.

→ Discover the WOHNUNGsREADING

🗝️ Because many of the answers are already living with you.