How does one even talk about their insecurities. I’ve been sitting with that question rather than the insecurity itself. Not sure if it deserves the word, or if it’s something smaller: just a thing I wish I was better at. Maybe writing it down is how I find out which one it is.

I met a girl at a pub a few months back. Sylvie. Worked in the film industry. Cool job, interesting person. We hit it off, or it felt like we did, and exchanged numbers. I was coming off a breakup, so it meant more to me than it probably should have. The validation. The idea that someone would actually want me. Then she started talking to another guy and disappeared into the night. She didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t a date, we hadn’t gone there together. But it touched a nerve anyway. The idea that no one will want me. Ever. That people will always choose someone else over me. Again.

I was in new city for a few days and matched with a girl there. Lepa, a teacher. We went on two dates, and they went well. I was leaving in a few days, but part of me wanted to see her again, and I thought she did too. Then she stopped replying. I’d been on a few dates before her and I think I was tired, and wanted her to be the one. The one I could come back to. The one I’d change plans for. Maybe those expectations were always going to end this way. Again, she didn’t do anything wrong. Life is busy. Maybe she just didn’t feel it. Maybe she knew I was leaving and decided it wasn’t worth taking anywhere.

So what is the insecurity, if that’s what it is. It’s that people won’t choose me. And underneath that, a quieter one I like even less: that if they did, I’m not sure I could give them what they’re actually looking for.