Why dating can feel like a performance (and how to start enjoying dating again)
Somewhere between “just be yourself” and “don’t be too much,” dating turned into an unpaid acting gig. I know the role well. I’ve played it. I’ve been the version of me that seemed the most dateable, attractive and polite, all while pretending not to care. I thought if I could get it right, then someone would finally choose me. I was exhausted. When I struggled to find a partner who understood me, I thought there was something wrong with me, but I was just disconnected from who I really was.
Why we start performing
This isn’t just a matter of fitting in or being enough. When our need for belonging feels uncertain, we start shapeshifting. From childhood, we learn that being liked keeps us safe. By age two, we’re already forming a sense of self. When that self is met with criticism or inconsistency, we adjust to keep the connection alive. We start measuring our worth by how comfortable other people feel around us. And the more we do that, the further we drift from ourselves. Science backs this up: when we spend too much time focused on how others see us, it increases anxiety and dulls our ability to connect with our own emotions. Understandably, dating starts to feel like a performance we have to get right. We’re craving a sense of safety and belonging.
How to start enjoying dating again
“Just be yourself” is common dating advice. But many of us don’t think it’s possible to be loved without trying. Truly being yourself begins with respecting and liking who you are. When you honour what you need and let yourself take up space, your energy changes. Let the friends who love your quirks be proof that you’re lovable as that unpolished version. Reconnect with what lights you up—the music you love, the friends who make you laugh uncontrollably, the activity you get lost in. Dating starts to feel lighter when you stop auditioning. Because connection isn’t found in perfection; it’s found in honesty, laughter and the small moments where you let someone see the real you.
By Sarah van Eck
