I’ve been thinking about feelings lately.
Especially about how something that begins so casually can somehow become much deeper than you ever intended.
Sometimes it starts with nothing more than chatting.
Joking around.
Being curious about someone.
Talking because you enjoy talking to each other.
At first, you don’t necessarily think, I’m going to fall for this person.
At least, I didn’t.
Sometimes I would say things jokingly. Sometimes I would flirt. Sometimes I’d say something dramatic without thinking too much about it.
And then, somewhere along the way, I realized that maybe it wasn’t entirely a joke anymore.
Maybe I actually cared.
Maybe I had fallen a little deeper than I intended.
And the dangerous thing about the person I’m close to now?
He remembers everything.
Seriously.
Sometimes he’ll bring up something I said months ago—even something from last year—and I’m sitting there thinking:
Wait. I said that?
Meanwhile, he remembers the conversation.
The details.
The little things.
Things I’ve completely forgotten myself.
And sometimes I just look at him and think:
You’re dangerous.
Because one day, if all these conversations become memories, he will probably still remember all the ridiculous things I’ve said.
And I’ll probably be the one dying of embarrassment.
But maybe there is something sweet about being remembered like that too.
Someone actually listens.
Someone pays attention.
Someone remembers the small things you didn’t even realize were worth remembering.
And maybe that’s one of the reasons I’ve started thinking about him—and relationships in general—a little more seriously.
Because the older I get, the more I understand why choosing a partner shouldn’t be something we take lightly.
In my faith, we’re encouraged to consider compatibility when choosing someone for marriage.
I used to think compatibility was mostly about obvious things.
Background.
Education.
Financial situation.
Lifestyle.
And yes, those things can matter.
But now I think compatibility goes much deeper than that.
It’s also about how someone’s mind works.
Can we actually talk?
Can we discuss something serious?
When there is a problem, can we sit down and talk about it instead of disappearing or avoiding it?
Can we disagree without disrespecting each other?
Can I bring up something uncomfortable and trust that you’ll actually engage with me?
Are you open-minded enough to consider another perspective?
Can you challenge the way I think—and can I do the same for you?
Those things matter to me.
Maybe even more than I realized before.
Recently, we had a conversation that was actually quite serious.
And what I appreciated was that he didn’t avoid it.
He responded.
He engaged with what I was saying.
We could actually discuss it.
That matters to me.
Communication matters too.
I don’t expect someone to reply to me twenty-four hours a day.
That’s unrealistic.
People have work.
Responsibilities.
Travel.
Family.
Their own lives.
The person I’m close to now is currently on holiday in South Africa. He told me that he would be extremely busy for the next couple of weeks and might not be able to reply to my messages much.
And honestly, I appreciate that.
Not because I particularly enjoy the idea of barely talking for two weeks.
I don’t. 😂
But because he communicated it.
He didn’t just disappear and leave me wondering what happened.
He told me what was going on.
So instead of creating a hundred scenarios in my head, I can simply think:
Okay. He’s busy. He’s traveling. Let him enjoy his time.
Maybe the connection isn’t always perfect. Maybe the signal isn’t always great. Maybe he’s simply having a full schedule.
Whatever it is, I can choose to think positively because he communicated with me beforehand.
And I think that’s important.
I’ve also realized that when I imagine a serious partnership, I don’t only think about romance.
Of course I want affection.
I want someone who makes me feel loved.
I want someone who listens to me.
I want someone who can be emotionally present.
But I also want a support system.
And to me, support isn’t only emotional.
Sometimes it’s practical.
Sometimes it’s professional.
And yes, sometimes it’s financial.
Real life isn’t made entirely of romantic conversations and I miss you messages.
There are responsibilities.
Careers.
Money.
Problems.
Decisions.
Families.
Plans for the future.
And if I’m going to build a life with someone one day, I want us to be able to support each other through those realities too.
So when someone asks why I’m selective about relationships, sometimes I wonder:
Why wouldn’t I be?
Of course I’m going to choose.
We’re supposed to choose.
I’m not looking for someone simply because I don’t want to be alone.
I’m looking at whether this person could actually fit into the life I want to build.
Can we communicate?
Can we think together?
Can we solve problems together?
Can we support each other?
Can we talk about uncomfortable things?
Can we respect each other’s ambitions?
Can we grow together?
That’s what compatibility has started to mean to me.
Not that two people need to have exactly the same personality.
Not that they need exactly the same education, income, background, or experiences.
And definitely not that either person has to be perfect.
But there has to be enough alignment that when real life happens, we’re capable of facing it together.
Maybe that’s what I’m learning from the person I’m close to now.
And maybe I’m still figuring out exactly what he means to me.
Maybe we’re still figuring out what this is.
But I know that I appreciate someone who remembers the little things.
Someone who communicates.
Someone who can have a serious conversation with me.
Someone who supports me—not only with words, but through actions.
And yes, maybe one day I’ll look back at all the things I’ve said to him and die of embarrassment.
Especially because apparently, he remembers everything.
But that’s a problem for future me.
For now, maybe I’m just learning that being selective isn’t about expecting perfection.
It’s about finally understanding what kind of partnership actually works for me.
And I think I’m allowed to choose carefully.
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