This is probably one of the most woo-wo things I’ve ever written, which could, technically, be blamed on my adopted city of Los Angeles, the land of aura readings and crystal healing. And yet, this actually came years before I found my way here – namely, when I was still living in New York and had never ever heard of the Goop podcast. Today, I’ll be sharing my one and only experience with manifestation, otherwise known as The List.
The year was 2018 and I was a few months out of a year-long relationship with an entitled European who had come in hot and heavy at first, only to declare eight months later that he had “never really envisioned this becoming more serious.” (Fun fact: he also couldn’t spend more than eight consecutive days together and never introduced me to his mother – even via FaceTime.) While I never loved him enough for him to break my heart, the episode did tarnish my faith in quality men even further. I no longer trusted my romantic intuition whatsoever – and how could I, when it had done nothing but lead me towards an entire assembly line of narcissists and commitment-phobes? I had to course-correct, and I had to do it soon.
My 32nd birthday was coming up, and the anxiety was settling in. In retrospect, I realize that 32 is quite young and I had no reason to fall into panic mode about not having met the right person. And yet, after over a decade of dating, seeking out adventures and racking up experiences, I was starting to feel ready for the next chapter. I didn’t want another “come what may” story. I was ready for something real – a partner, a shared life, a family – and I wanted to meet somebody who wanted the same.
On the eve of my birthday, I stayed home. I put on an Eberjey slip, poured myself a glass of wine, opened up my laptop and started writing, feeling like the lead in my own Nora Ephron film. First, I wrote a detailed hit list against the ex, as though to seal the proverbial coffin of our relationship and finally lay it to rest. (I won’t lie, it also came in quite handy on those rare occasions when I found myself missing him.) I would love to share it, but I’m still trying to take the moral high ground here. (Should I share it with paid subscribers?!)
Then, I wrote a list of what I wanted in a partner. I still have it in my notes.
Somebody who wants children.
Somebody who puts me and family first.
Somebody who is kind and giving.
Somebody who is ambitious.
Somebody who inspires me.
Somebody who knows the meaning of hard work.
Somebody who takes care of himself.
Somebody who is open-minded.
Somebody who respects my heritage.
Somebody who wants to travel the world.
Looking back, I see that many of the points were heavily influenced by the shortcomings of my ex, a fellow who never got out of bed before 10am and who has way too many Russian women jokes for comfort. And yet, what actually surprises me more is what was not on The List. I’m referring to the superficial things – the looks, the status, the background, the European cache – many of which I had cared for in past, but had discovered to be completely useless if the aforementioned core qualities were lacking.
In the months that followed, I snapped out of my funk and got back out on the dating playfield. I spent an hour a day swiping, agreed to setups, and even joined my friend’s matchmaking agency. While I never directly cross-referenced the guys I was dating to The List, having this internal guideline often allowed me to eliminate certain red flags. For example, when one guy casually mentioned that he didn’t speak to his siblings, I knew he wasn’t for me. When another failed to empathize with me after witnessing me go to hell and back with a family member, I rightfully decided that life partner material he was not.
Six months after my 32nd birthday, I went on my first Hinge date with my now-fiance, Dave. I want to delve into a poetic essay about him personifying The List, but I genuinely don’t remember paying attention to any of that stuff in the beginning (all I was focused on at the time were his abs). And yet, the red flags were sparse: he wanted kids, he cared deeply about his family, he was self-made and undoubtedly ambitious. The only thing that truly bothered me was that he didn’t take much of an effort with me, but, when I brought it up to him a couple of months in, he listened and turned a corner. Years prior, I would have been bothered by the fact that he was from Brooklyn and therefore represented something too safe, too familiar, too close to home. But suave European was no longer on my first tier of priorities. That, I could live without. The other qualities, not so much.
Mind you, there’s nothing new about The List. In fact, I first heard of it years prior when I interviewed my friend Ajiri Aki for Dbag Dating years ago. She told me: “While everyone was partying into the New Year, I was alone writing down all the things I wanted to happen in my life that year. I wrote, ‘I’m going to meet a guy this year,’ and then very specifically described everything about who this guy would be.” Lo and behold, she met her husband the following year. Chelsea Handler famously wrote a letter to herself on what she was looking for in a partner right before reuniting with her now-ex Jo Koy. While they didn’t last, she remains a firm proponent of The List as a vehicle to attract somebody worthwhile.
I don’t know if it’s the law of attraction, a solid elimination criteria or simply a mindset shift that has you actively seeking out the right person, but there’s definitely something about the approach that seems to work. Speaking of which, if there’s one thing the spiritual guru in me must specify, is that it’s not enough to simply make The List. You have to actually make space in your life for somebody to enter the picture, therefore eliminating factors such as toxic French exes and suffocating work schedules. You also need to be ready to go out there and date, because no list will lure over the perfect somebody while lounging on the couch. The List is only half the game. You need to open yourself up to what you want – and what you deserve.
Now that I’m officially a worthwhile representative of the quasi-spiritual capital of America, I’ll leave you to it and go manifest myself some peace and some Prada. In the meantime, try it for yourself. Write to me about it. Hell, blame it on me if it doesn’t work. At the end of the day, you have nothing to lose and a lifelong pain in the butt partner to gain.
I love this. I was in such a similar boat (exes who suddenly decided they were allergic to commitment) and felt like I was “getting old,” and I read somewhere that Heather Graham had put together her own list of her future partner’s requirements. Writing mine really helped to narrow things down. Thank you for sharing! This is so spot-on.