It sounded like a scam. I was on the cusp of shelling out a large sum of money for someone who wasn’t going to scour the market and actually find me a healthy relationship, but rather would highlight my epic blunders in the quest for love. But, after 20 years of heartbreak and two divorces before the age of 40, the fear of repeating my destructive pattern trumped logic. I still felt like I was missing some key piece of information on how to do this dating thing right.
My colleague introduced me to a woman named Bela who offered dating coaching. During our first session, she asked if I had doubts about my exes. I answered honestly that standing hand-in-hand with each of them reciting vows, I’d never been more sure of anything in my life. They were the path to what I wanted: marriage and motherhood. Yet, with both of them, I soon after experienced shocking revelations that inevitably imploded each relationship.
My first husband, whom I married at age 29, was mild-mannered, sweet, uncomplicated. Sadly, six weeks after our dream wedding, I realized I didn’t know him at all. We were both living incompatible fantasies.
I shared with Bela that I then welcomed an era of extremes in my early 30s as I tried to figure myself out. I was either sipping late-night cocktails with colleagues or visiting my friends in maternity wards, meeting my unofficial newborn nieces and nephews. Friends were jealous of my galavanting in Istanbul and jaunts to Sao Paulo; I wanted to be saddled with binkies and a baby monitor.
When my second ex-husband dangled his three young children who adored me, I couldn’t resist instantly creating the life that seemed to be slipping further away. We made it less than two years before I learned his secrets — all alarmingly cliched. I should have seen the warning signs. He was another man I didn’t know at all.
As much as I wanted to play the victim, I quickly realized I wasn’t blameless. These men may have been hiding secrets, but I was also using them to live out a contrived notion of a fairy tale ending. Explaining my humiliating history to the dating coach helped me center in on an inescapable reality that I needed to break my unhealthy pattern.
Bela didn’t promise I’d find healthy love quickly, only that I would build interminable self-awareness and never again struggle with dating. It sounded like exactly what I needed, so I cobbled together the investment and signed up for a year of coaching.
I was to follow her strict rules without deviation: Date multiple people simultaneously without being intimate or committing to any one person for at least three months. Dates were spaced out once per week to help me avoid falling in love too quickly again. Friends mocked me, saying not to wait more than three dates to sleep with someone, let alone three months, but I persevered.
Bela helped me craft a new profile on the dating apps by highlighting things I’d love to talk about, making it approachable for potential matches to message me. I wrote that I loved cocktail bars and holding hard-cover books, and I shared specific stories that might pique someone’s interest and spark a question, like the time I was kicked out of a Turkish nightclub. In my pictures I wore six different outfits, creating the ideal set of new photos that weren’t cropped from a girls night out, but rather highlighted just me in three full-body poses and three headshots. She had me set up a new-to-world email address so, as Bela told me, the algorithms would recognize me as a hot new customer and send my profile to more people.
Before launching myself on the dating apps, her company did a full-day session with me. They had me write a contract to myself that I read aloud and then signed. It helped clarify my intention and commit fully to the coaching program, vowing to break my pattern of falling too fast too hard, and most critically, start taking the red flags seriously.
Once my dating profile went live, I was shocked at how different the whole experience felt. For years I would commit to the apps, then delete them. Tinder notifications used to interrupt work calls or runs on the Chicago lakefront. Like a bad relationship itself, the apps controlled my life.
Bela taught me to time-box the dating apps: no notifications, just 15 minutes of dedicated time in the morning and evening. I found myself actually enjoying the process. I was also attracting truly great people to go out with in numbers I didn’t know possible. Prior to coaching I was lucky to find one date a month, but with my new attitude I attracted desirable prospects weekly.
I wondered, could it simply be the renewed energy I was putting into the world? Should I credit my mindset alone? My valuable, vulnerable time in the dating world was finally producing results.
Less than two months into coaching, I met Jason on Match.com. Like previous relationships, I wanted to jump in with him quickly and delete the apps. I called Bela in tears. I wanted to stop dating other people.
In her maternal voice she reminded me, “We’re looking for consistency.” She had me open my calendar. “You’ve known him for less than two weeks, Andrea, this is not enough time to earn your commitment.” Bela’s timeline for how long a person can hide their true self is three months. I thought about my exes, recalling the first dates that slid quickly into daily texting, sex, relationships, marriage.
Bela’s timeline for how long a person can hide their true self is three months. I thought about my exes, recalling the first dates that slid quickly into daily texting, sex, relationships, marriage.
Thankfully, the commitment to coaching helped me follow the rules and date Jason slowly. I went out with other guys in our three months of courtship, and each one affirmed that not only was I finally attracting quality options, but also that Jason was the one I wanted to be with.
Over three years have passed, and my bond with Jason, built from a respectful foundation, still feels unshakable. He couldn’t believe we met as a result of coaching and said he would have approached me if we met organically. Even if we had the chance to meet by happenstance, I don’t regret anything about my coaching experience.