Let’s talk about the list.
You know the one. For women, it is six feet or taller, six figures or close to it. Has to love hiking, but also loves staying in. Emotionally available but not “too available” (whatever that means). Ambitious but not a workaholic. Funny but serious when it counts. Owns a home, or is at least “on track” to.
For men, she has to be a “10” physically — young, thin but curvy in the right places, low-maintenance but always looks done up, natural but flawless. She should have an impressive career, but not be “too busy” or “too independent” to prioritize him.
Somewhere along the way, we all built this list. And somewhere along the way, a lot of us started treating it like scripture.
Here’s the uncomfortable question I’ve been sitting with: What if the list isn’t protecting you from heartbreak? What if it’s protecting you from intimacy?
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Two very different reasons to have standards
Standards exist for a reason, and a good reason at that. If you’ve been burned before—by someone unreliable, unkind, or just wrong for you—it makes sense that you’d build some guardrails. That’s not neurosis. That’s growth.
But there’s a difference between a standard and a shield.
A standard says: I won’t be treated poorly, and I know what I need to feel safe and respected.
A shield says: If I keep the bar high enough, no one gets close enough to actually disappoint me.
The tricky part is that they can look identical from the outside. Both result in you turning down a second date. Both feel like self-respect in the moment. The difference only shows up when you’re honest about what you’re actually afraid of.
The Tell
Here’s a quiet way to check yourself: think about the last few people you ruled out. Was it because something was genuinely wrong—dishonesty, disrespect, a values mismatch you could feel in your gut? Or was it something smaller? A text that took two hours instead of twenty minutes. A job that wasn’t quite impressive enough. A laugh that was a little too loud in the restaurant.
If it’s mostly the second category, it might be worth asking: what am I actually screening for?
Because sometimes the answer isn’t “quality”, it’s “risk.” And those aren’t the same thing. A person can be low-risk and completely wrong for you. A person can also make you nervous—because they’re a little unpredictable, a little more real than the curated version you swipe past—and still be exactly right.
Growth rarely comes wrapped in the safest possible package.
You’re allowed to want a lot. Just be honest about why.
I’m not here to tell you to lower your standards. Wanting kindness, consistency, ambition, and chemistry is not the problem. The problem is when the list becomes so specific, so airtight, that it functions less like a compass and more like a moat.
A moat keeps everyone out. Including the people who might actually be good for you.
So this week, try this instead of scrolling past someone because they didn’t check every box: ask yourself what you’re actually protecting. Your time? Your heart? But if the honest answer is “nothing gets in that could hurt me,” that’s not a standard anymore.
That’s a wall with a really convincing PR team.
One thing to sit with this week: Next time you catch yourself saying “they’re just not my type,” ask if that’s true—or if it’s just your fear of being hurt or rejected.
