The Midpoint (Aka The Inevitable St ep
BACKWARD)
“I... feel... like... the... worst... person... ever.” Meera was still sobbing a few minutes into our session
and I wanted to provide a safe space—even if that meant watching in silence—as she gathered her
thoughts. When she finally came up for air, she managed to share that she ended up meeting Raj, the guy
she’d been talking to on Bumble, but apparently the whole ordeal had been wildly disappointing, and she
was still questioning whether or not she emotionally cheated on Trevor—despite their relationship not yet
being exclusive. Currently Trevor had all the benefits of being in a relationship with her, but with none of
the responsibilities, such as lending emotional support or being present for important events. Her anxiety
surrounding all of this might have been avoided if she had actually been attracted to Raj, but she was
unwilling to see if that could change. Attraction can grow sometimes—think of any friend you’ve ever
slowly fallen for—however, Meera was used to fireworks on night one. It’s not that you can’t, or
shouldn’t, have them, but I also know dozens of happy couples whose
chemistry continued to build over time, and neither scenario is “better” than the other. That’s not to say I
believe in giving people two or three dates no matter what, though. While an extra date is helpful if you’re
on the fence about someone—whether that’s after one date or after dating for one year—I do believe you
can be certain someone isn’t your person, even after a first impression. If you don’t get a glimpse of
something that could convince you otherwise, you should walk away. Reacting with disgust when you first
meet someone is an unlikely recipe for a lifelong romance. Trying to make that work potentially wastes
valuable time—time you could be meeting someone else better suited to you. Meera had experienced
glimpses of potential with Raj, though. That seed of a connection, in my opinion, warranted at least one
more date to see whether her initial feelings for him would grow. In nature, a tree won’t sprout in the
middle of nowhere, but if a seed exists, it’s possible to water it and give it enough sunlight until a sapling
appears. Meera wasn’t interested in doing that, likely because she was comparing her first date with Raj to
her first date with Trevor— ignoring the fact that it’s been somewhat downhill with him ever since. “Am I
the most hopeless client you’ve ever worked with?” Meera asked defeatedly. I didn’t answer: not because I
was unsure, but because my screen froze at the absolute worst moment, just as I was about to comfort her.
But my contorted face had the desirable effect of making her laugh, which immediately cut all the tension.
As I gracefully recovered, I shared my perspective that this complication brought on by Raj was good for
Meera’s growth. Although her dalliance with him didn’t go as planned, she put herself out there, and was
able to imagine an alternate, positive reality from the one she was living. I wished she could see the
benefits of that, but right now, she was too terrified Trevor would find the previous messages from Raj on
her phone, find out she went on a date with another man, and somehow hold that against her. Once I felt
she had the emotional bandwidth, I tackled her accidental admission. What would Trevor be doing on her
phone anyway? Was he the jealous type? Did she feel the need to share her password with him to
demonstrate trust? Transparency is important in any good relationship, but so is
the existence of boundaries. From what I could tell, Meera didn’t have many in her relationships, whether
that was with friends, family members, or romantic entanglements. She feared that in setting them, she’d
push people away. This insecurity caused her to want to feel chosen rather than actively doing the
choosing. I asked whether she noticed the pattern. She did, but her next declaration threw me: she said her
therapist told her that her suffering in love was all due to “past-life regression.” I took a de ep breath. When
she’d told me she’d been seeing a therapist, I didn’t think to ask what kind. I have limited knowledge about
this particular type of metaphysical trauma (and, full disclosure, I’m sk eptical it actually exists—it’s been
widely discredited in the scientific community), but my understanding is that it’s based on the idea that
emotions and experiences from past lives affect our current behavior. Through hypnotherapy, a person can
supposedly confront their de eply rooted fears and anxiety, and this was something Meera had been
exploring. I tried to ke ep an open mind as she told me more (a good friend had tried this method once, and
I do admit she demonstrated undeniable growth afterward). During one hypnotherapy session, Meera had
learned that in a past life, she’d taken a vow to never marry again after her lover died during an early
medieval battle in India. To break the cycle of her misfortune in love, her therapist said Meera would have
to give herself permission to break her vow. I’m normally all for breaking cycles, but I strongly believed
Meera was unlucky in love because she was choosing the wrong men, not because of a tenth-century curse.
As Meera described more of Trevor’s bad behavior—most recently, that he hadn’t called her in two days
following a “silly” argument of theirs—I wanted to remind her that we weren’t in early medieval India
now, and this mess was of Trevor’s own making, as well as her own. I knew that effort would be futile,
though. So instead, I listened. “He said it again,” she told me, referring to the L-word. “Oh?” I r eplied
evenly. “How did it happen?” “Well, he called me ‘love,’” she clarified earnestly. “He said, ‘I’ll see you
soon, love,’ when he hung up last week, before our fight. That’s a good st ep, right?”
I tried my best to project optimism. The term of endearment can be uplifting when attached to
corresponding action, but the latter half was missing. “How did that make you feel?” I asked instead,
cringing as the most cliché of all coaching questions left my lips. She admitted it made her feel confused.
“If I’m really his ‘love,’” she started to reason, “I don’t get why he treats me this way. Or only wants to see
me once a week.” I asked whether she’d expressed to him that she’d like to see him more often. She said
she had, but he’d told her that it was tough with work. I had to weigh my advice. Some people genuinely
do have challenging schedules that make carving out quality time difficult, but when someone is a priority,
even busy people will usually find other ways to express their affection—and I wasn’t sure Trevor had
done that. I also wasn’t sure if Trevor had any idea how much his inconsistent behavior dysregulated
Meera, or whether he could tell, but didn’t care. “Maybe I’ll just be less responsive to him and see how he
likes it,” Meera announced. I grimaced at her impulse to give Trevor a taste of his own medicine. I’m all
for modeling behavior with a partner, but more so when that behavior is affirming. If you want your
romantic interest to call you instead of text, for example, then you call them first. If you want your partner
to initiate more affection, then you’re to do the same. These actions typically yield positive results, even
more so when paired with a light conversation surrounding the topic (e. g., “Talking on the phone makes
me feel more connected to you”). But Meera told Trevor she’d like to see him more, and he hadn’t
modified his behavior as a result. “He also hasn’t suggested an alternative to make you feel more
comfortable,” I pointed out to her. “No. But he’s telling me how much he misses me when I see him. And
he says he’s never met anyone like me before.” I sighed. More heightened language without the
corresponding follow-through. Trevor, what are you doing? And, more important, what is Meera doing?
Buzz. Trevor texted Meera during our Zoom, and her face instantly lit up. I told her I was concerned she
was hanging on to any kind of positive reinforcement from him as a sign he was still interested in her, and
she looked crestfallen. “But he is. Isn’t he?” “He is,” I admitted reluctantly. “But is he interested enough?”
She wiped away a tear that had slid down her cheek, which was difficult to watch. Delivering hard truths is
part of my job, but sometimes it makes me feel like I’m the one hurting someone rather than their partner.
“You’re a special person,” I reminded her how I saw her. “You feel de eply, you’re passionate, intelligent,
and warm, with an incredible circle of family and friends. I know you feel something between you and
Trevor, and I believe it’s there. But while I can’t see the future, I don’t think the right man for you will
make you cry. At least not this early, and this often.” I’d been dancing around the conclusion that I’d
hoped for some time Meera would arrive at on her own, but one of us needed to say it aloud—if only for
her to hear what it sounded like. “I’m saying all this because I care. Even if Trevor suddenly starts calling
you his girlfriend, or proposes to you one day, none of those labels are going to change his emotional
unavailability.” Meera nodded. She didn’t disagree—how could she? But it didn’t mean she was ready to
walk away from him yet. If I bullied her into doing it before she was ready, then I’d be no better than
Trevor. Meera was busy with work coming up, and asked if we could meet again in a month. That was
perfect for me. The space would give Meera time to digest our conversation, and with everything going on
lately, I’d hoped to carve out some more quality time with Dave. I wondered how Meera would fare the
next month between our sessions. I was frustrated with her for not seeing the signs with Trevor, but then
again, maybe I needed to start paying more attention to my own. This IVF business had been impacting my
energy around Dave—needles, bruising, and failed medical procedures hadn’t exactly been the world’s
best aphrodisiacs. And I wondered if we simply weren’t meant to have biological children. How many
times had I returned for more treatments despite receiving discouraging results? What if the failed embryo
transfer and abnormal test results we were getting
were signs that it was time for us to stop trying? What signs are we supposed to pay attention to, and which
ones do we ignore in order to achieve our desired outcome? I was putting myself through all this for a
reason, I told myself, and was certain Meera was doing the same thing. I hoped at least one of us was right.