The Casual Offer

I want to start by being honest about something from my past.

I wasn’t tricked into casual arrangements.

I accepted them.

I said yes to men I wanted to want me — even when they told me upfront that they were never going to give me more. And back then, I convinced myself it was fine. I told myself my needs were being met, so what did it really matter what label it had? I leaned into the role of the “cool girl” — detached, unbothered, easygoing.

And that word matters.

I acted.

Because the truth underneath was very different.

I agreed to those arrangements because I genuinely liked the man. Because I hoped that if he spent enough time with me, he’d eventually see what I saw — that we were actually a great match. I believed that closeness would create clarity.

It never did.

What actually happened was this: I often became a placeholder. Temporary comfort. A fill-in until they met the woman they were willing to choose fully and commit to.

And while I was busy pretending I didn’t need more, I was quietly breaking my own heart.

I told myself I was “okay” with less.

I wasn’t.

The more I accepted connections like that, the further I drifted from my sense of value. Deep down, I wanted to be chosen — I wanted to be the woman someone showed up for, not the one they saw when it was convenient.

Looking back, my picker was definitely off.

If a man was emotionally unavailable but attracted to me, I was in. Miss life-of-the-party, all-in, hopeful — even when history kept repeating itself.

I couldn’t always control who I felt drawn to.

But I eventually learned I could control who I gave my energy to.

And that changed everything.

Some time ago, someone from my past — someone who had popped in and out of my life — offered me that place again. Friends with benefits. No future. No direction. Just access.

There was a time when I would’ve said yes without hesitation.

Because the truth is, I fell for him when I first met him. And for a while, every time he resurfaced, I still felt something. But it was always the same pattern: just enough availability to draw me back in, never enough consistency to stay.

Eventually something shifted.

The push-and-pull stopped being exciting. Emotional unavailability disguised as chemistry became exhausting. Inconsistency lost its charm.

There had been a time when I lived for the high-low cycle — the waiting, the hoping, the “maybe this time.” But I reached a point where I already knew the answer before the story even restarted.

And the best part?

I stopped being attached to the outcome.

That detachment gave me clarity. It allowed me to ask myself real questions:

Does this energy add to my life?

Is this connection growing?

Is this love — or just a holding pattern?

One thing I discovered is that healing doesn’t make you cold.

It simply makes you honest.

You learn to protect your peace instead of reopening old doors. You stop entertaining energy that doesn’t make you feel seen, heard, or valued. And surprisingly, it doesn’t even feel hard.

Because once you’ve experienced real peace, you stop bargaining with chaos.

You no longer risk your healing for almost-love. You no longer trade your self-respect for moments of attention. You no longer accept “access without responsibility.”

And if you’re dating now, I won’t tell you what to choose — but I will invite you to ask yourself what you’re truly looking for.

Because if what you want is love, partnership, and emotional safety, shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s limits won’t get you there. Casual arrangements — especially where feelings are involved — are often just lazy dating with zero accountability.

I made the decision that I would never again be someone’s convenient option. I wouldn’t sit on standby hoping someone might eventually choose me.

There is more to life than chemistry without care.

The right person won’t risk losing you by offering you the bare minimum. They will meet you fully, make space for you, and treat you like their presence in your life actually matters.

I’ll be honest — the chaos once thrilled me. The wanting. The uncertainty. The emotional gamble.

But I’m grateful I outgrew that version of love.

Now, I know how to protect my energy. I recognize when something asks me to abandon myself — and I choose not to.

Because what do any of us truly gain from giving our time, body, and heart to something that has no intention behind it?

Once you’re genuinely connected to yourself, sex without substance doesn’t feel empowering. When it’s transactional, it feels exactly like that — empty.

My future match was never going to be a casual fling.

Not then. Not anymore.

Friends, yes.

Benefits, no.