Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Life in the Third Degree.
A year and a day ago, my ex-husband and I sat down and discussed divorce.
We had a pretty good discussion. We understood each other, even in our disagreement. We both wanted the best for our children. We both agreed that a divorce, while painful, was better than staying together and making the situation worse. I’m pretty fortunate on that count.
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But it’s been a year and a day now, and I’m sitting back wondering about patterns in mate selection.
This is not my first time around the block. I’ve been married before my ex. And I’ve dated a lot of different types of men. And I’m starting to see a pattern. I seem to select men that need saving. Not consciously, of course. But in retrospect, I can see it.
There was the man who was an emotional cripple, though he seemed charming at first. There was the man who couldn’t hold a job, though he had talent and ability. There was my ex, who was passive and afraid to stand up to anyone, which eventually turned into verbal abuse and manipulation.
And now, I’m dating again. And who do I attract? Men who are broken in some way. Men who need saving. Men who are either too needy or too unavailable.
Why do I do this?
I think it’s because I’m a caretaker by nature. I want to help. I want to nurture. I want to see people be the best version of themselves. And I think, subconsciously, I’m drawn to men who I think I can help. Men who have potential but need a little push. Men who are struggling and could use a strong woman to stand beside them.
But here’s the thing: You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. And you can’t make someone be the best version of themselves if they’re not willing to do the work.
So this year and a day later, I’m learning to be more selective. I’m learning to let go of my need to caretake. I’m learning to look for men who are already whole. Men who don’t need saving. Men who are complete in themselves and just want to share their life with someone.
It’s a hard lesson to learn. Because it means accepting that I can’t fix everyone. And it means being okay with walking away from someone I care about because they’re not willing to do the work.
But I think it’s a necessary lesson. For my sake. And for the sake of any future relationship I might have.
A Southern witch returns home. Secrets won’t stay buried. A chance to confront and heal—or face the consequences.
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