One of the common relationships that is brought to my office is the relationship that does not yet exist.
Relationships are at the core of my work as a clinical psychologist. Although many clients seek my services to process a traumatic event or help manage other challenging emotions, other people inadvertently come up. Whether it is the relationship with themselves, their parents, their children or partner, or the often-neglected relationship with their child self, no one lives in a vacuum.
One of the common relationships that is brought to my office is the relationship that does not yet exist – the one with the life partner who is yet to be found. To some people in committed relationships, dating may seem like a fun adventure. For others, the fantasy of a meet cute, excitement of putting together a flirtatious online profile with funny quotes, and butterflies before a first date quickly become stale.
I can’t talk to clients about relationships, whether they exist or not – without talking about attachment strategies. The theory of attachment, which is supported by decades of research with children and adults around the world, shows that our early relationship with caregivers become a blueprint for the way we relate to others and to ourselves. These early strategies come to the surface most prominently when there is interpersonal conflict. When early relationships with caregivers are inconsistent, rejecting, neglectful, or frightening, the child develops strategies that are anxious or avoidant (as opposed to secure). These strategies will show up whenever there could be danger. The prospect of being alone for the rest of your life may be frightening; the thought of someone loving you unconditionally may be terrifying; and the possibility of someone leaving you may be unbearable. For a brain that is accustomed to feeling rejected, threatened, or otherwise alone – interpersonal threat is everywhere (even in a text message that is a little ambiguous but probably completely innocuous).
These attachment wounds follow us everywhere, even (or especially) on a date. Take the example of a recent client – let’s call her Sammie. She told me about a date with someone who she called “a gem of a woman!” They shared values, a sense of humour, and love for hot sauce. Despite the ease of the first two dates, Sammie told me how her excitement for their next date shifted suddenly when she remembered how her date checked her phone during the dinner, then went to the bathroom for what seemed like too much time. In telling me the story, Sammie was distraught… “Did I say something wrong? Is she already losing interest?” Sammie knew that I would ask her what emotions were bubbling up at that point, so she answered me right away. “I’m nervous. And what I’m worried will happen is that she is having second thoughts, and that she will cancel the next date.” Hearing herself utter those words, Sammie knew this reaction was more intense than the situation called for, but her fear was overwhelming. This was a familiar feeling for her, though; her ex-partner broke up with her “out-of-blue” a few weeks after an engagement, and her father left her family when she was young. Her anxious attachment was activated. Instead of interpreting these events as coincidences or maybe a lack of awareness on her date’s part, Sammie viewed them as a threat.
Another client, let’s call him Arnold, felt his attachment system activate toward the end of a second date. He told me all about how he and his date were laughing easily and shared embarrassing stories about their awkward teenage years while on a walk in the woods. As they slowly walked back toward their vehicles, the expectation that they might extend the date to a coffee hung between them. Arnold’s date took the leap and asked if he wanted to meet at the coffee shop down the road, and Arnold happily agreed. Something changed though when she invited him to drive down with her. Arnold felt his chest tighten. “That was way too much – I mean, we just met, we can take different cars, the coffee shop is three minutes away.” Arnold felt suffocated. He said he preferred to take his car, went for coffee with her, but then never saw her again. His dismissive attachment was activated. Arnold needed to pull away as soon as someone got close.
Our attachment luggage follows us everywhere. These strategies can be effective by warning us when an interaction is unsafe; at other times, they can mislead us. Those with an anxious style might cling or become overly preoccupied with how things are going, fearing rejection at every turn. Practically, this can be someone who needs frequent checking in, over-texting, or needing constant reassurance. Individuals with more dismissive (avoidant) strategies, on the other hand, want connection, but resist closeness because they fear being vulnerable or losing their independence. This translates into mixed signals, being overly critical of their partner, and difficulties with commitment.
When dating (or at any point in a relationship), reflecting on our attachment strategies, and the wounds that led to their development can help us recognize these reactions with compassion and spot them when they turn up on date. With that recognition, we learn to pause, and then we have a choice. And having choice is freeing and empowering. Attachment strategies are not set in stone. Self-reflection, positive relationship experiences, and therapy can help soften approaches, which creates room for trust and genuine connection. This is a long process that takes intentionality and self-compassion.