Red Flag, Green Flag.

This Friday morning? Well, let’s have it.

You often say that you want love, real love, but what you actually want is someone who understands your brokenness without making you talk about it.

You want effort, but not the daily kind. You want vulnerability, but only if it comes in attractive packaging. You say communication is key, but what you mean is: “Know exactly what I am feeling, without me having to say a single word.”

You want someone who is healing but not mid-process, because that’s too messy.

You want someone busy and stable but not too unavailable, because then it feels suspicious.

You want butterflies but only the kind that don’t come with anxiety.

You say, “If you are avoidant, healing, or emotionally unavailable, go do that… just not with me.” Then you reply to their “I miss you” like it’s scripture.

You want the soft life, satin mornings, love notes, gentle hands, someone who brings you hugs, velvet cake and silence when you are overwhelmed, but you also crave some chaos like it’s comfort food. Peace feels boring. Stability feels fake. Kindness feels like manipulation. And anyone who doesn’t make you question your worth just isn’t “challenging” enough.

You say you want depth but you treat emotionally present people like a scam. You call them “too much.” You say they are moving fast. You say “I need space,” but really you mean “I need the drama I am used to.”

You pray for love, but ignore people who are emotionally fluent. You want God-fearing partners but haven’t talked to God since your last situationship crashed into pieces and you blamed it on the devil and not your taste in people.

You have non-negotiables that turn into negotiation points the moment someone fine shows up with the right tone and just enough mystery.

You say, “I want someone who chooses me.” But you chase people who wouldn’t pick you out of a line-up if it weren’t for your consistency.

You say you want something real, but let’s be honest here- you are not ready to be known. You like being loved from a distance, in theory, where your wounds can stay dressed up in wit and sarcasm.

And maybe it’s not your fault.

Maybe you are in between versions of yourself. Maybe you are trying to stop choosing people who feel like home when home was never safe.

Maybe you want to do better but you are scared that better might not want you back.

And most of the time, you end up with people you are never fully sure of.

Not because you are reckless, but because something about their inconsistency still feels like love.

And you hope it is good love. And if it’s not, you silently hope it doesn’t break you beyond repair.

You keep moving.

You try.

You write lists, say affirmations, make vows.

You want a love that feels like stillness.

Like ease.

Like breathing without effort.

Because you know.

You know that you deserve love that doesn’t live in extremes.

Not fireworks and then silence.

Not affection that depends on the weather of someone else’s tenor.

You know you deserve consistency, not guesswork.

Warmth, not performance.

You know.

You know it well.

So,

May that love be kind to you.

May it be clear.

May it be the kind of calm that doesn’t scare you.

May it feel less like guessing, and more like knowing.

And I hope you actually believe what you know.

I hope you believe you deserve steadiness.

That you deserve to feel chosen on the quiet days too.

That love shouldn’t leave you confused. It should feel clear. Certain.

No games. No halfway. Just pure choices with someone who means it and shows up like they do.