How Do I Know If My Gut's Even Right?

As seen in my newsletter.

"YOUR BUTT JUST WANTED TO CALL ME."

Those were the words he texted me one week prior to our first socially distanced date. We'd just ended a three hour FaceTime hang, which felt a little lackluster in comparison to our previous 10 or so calls, but I didn't give it much thought. I mean, we had been on the phone for three freaking hours....

But then this text. I'd accidentally dialed him after our call, though not by sitting on my phone. He'd thoughtfully texted to ask if I meant to call him, to which I replied "Nope! Accidentally dialed."

And then...the butt comment.

Immediately judgment kicked in. What guy says something like this post seventh grade? Ok fine, maybe tenth, but still? It irked me. Mindful of not making false assumptions though, I pushed the interaction out of my mind. There were numerous wonderful things to outweigh this one text. The interest he showed in my work. His care for my family. His consistency in following up. And one could just as easily judge ME for being uptight (yep, this right here), prudish, or simply overly judgmental.

The significant piece wasn't actually the butt comment (how many times will I say butt comment?). The more significant thing was where my brain went after receiving his text, which was to an entirely different conversation we'd had a week before. On a previous virtual date, I'd asked if he had ever shared a home with a partner. He responded with a joke and then described the one time he'd lived with someone, which had only amounted to a few months. I sensed some insecurity.

Something subtle went off in my body in that moment. It was nearly imperceptible at the time. It only became more significant on second glance, when my mind automatically wandered back there after the butt comment (there we are again).

Let me first make clear: there was nothing inherently wrong with his response to living with someone. I know someone will wish there was. For me to say "He hadn't shared a residence with a partner for a minimum of 18 months therefore, red flag." No. There is no rule. There is no minimum amount of time. Candidly, I don't even remember what length of time he mentioned or if I even got the full story. All I know is my body's reaction. So why the hell does that matter?

Fast forward to after the in-person date (I'll explain how that went later), I was rehashing the sequence of events to a dear friend and fellow coach. How we'd gone from being all high on getting to know one another to chemistry waning, conversation feeling less fluid, and ultimately our interest in one another dwindling. I described the above to her—butt comment, prior convo about living with partners, and my spidey sense putting the two together.

Something in my gut felt off after that text I said.

How did you know your gut was right? she asked, and then went on... Our gut can be biased. It can be altered by experience, by society, by unprocessed emotions, etc. To always trust our guts isn't always right. Our intuition—the voice to be trusted—is a muscle that needs to be trained.

A-freaking-men. But how did I know the difference in this instance?

If I'd been working with the butt comment (it.just.doesn't.end) alone and acting off of that gut feeling/judgment—that'd be biased. Likewise if I'd done the same thing with my response to his prior living situation (which ultimately for me correlated more to his emotional availability and less to any "required experience"), same thing. Biased judgment. As stand alones, each interaction wasn't enough.

But the combination of the two, and really, the way my brain naturally linked the two together (that part is key) prior to meeting in person, was a product of my intuition. One had seemingly nothing to do with the other, but my intuition thought otherwise.

Caroline Myss, author of the Anatomy of Spirit writes:

...intuition is neither the ability to engage in prophesy nor a means of avoiding financial loss or painful relationships. It is actually the ability to use energy data to make decisions in the immediate moment. Energy data are the emotional, psychological, and spiritual components of a given situation.

For the most part, information that is accessible to intuition makes its presence know by making us feel uncomfortable, depressed, and anxious—or at the other extreme, drifty and detached, as if we were suddenly cut off from our own feelings.

It was definitely in the latter camp (detached), but it didn't mean I canceled the date. In non-pandemic times, things would likely have played out differently, but no matter how strong we believe our intuition to be, I don't think we can make a decision about someone without some face-to-face interaction these days (albeit with safety precautions).

So despite these feelings, a week later we found ourselves on a trail, equidistant from our homes with hand sanitizer and masks in hand. We talked. We got lost on the trail. We drank beers. We later found a shady spot to eat sandwiches and dark chocolate peanut butter cups. And then we said our goodbyes.

I woke up the next day relieved, rested, and ready to dissolve our communication (i.e. relieve myself of that feeling of detachment). Within 24 hours we voiced we weren't really feeling it and parted ways digitally. Why did it happen so seamlessly? Because my heart had processed most of my disappointment the week prior. Actually, it wasn't my heart doing the heavy lifting, it was my intuition (though, they're intricately related). Even though nothing was set in stone, she was working actively to let me down gently by nudging me that something was off. That this person wouldn't become a person in my life.