The Challenge I Didn’t Think I’d Survive

The night my mom called me a “lazy romantic,” I felt like I’d been dunked into ice water. This wasn’t coming from some distant family member whose opinion I could brush off. This was my mother: the woman who used to braid my hair while telling me stories about how my father crossed an ocean—not figuratively, literally—to win her heart. It wasn’t just a critique; it was a full-blown indictment.

She said this during a family dinner in Brooklyn, over a spoonful of jollof rice. “Malik,” she began, in that casually dangerous tone Nigerian mothers wield with surgical precision, “you say you want something real, but you don’t even call her back. How can you be serious if you won’t even try?”

I choked. On the rice, on my pride. On the awkward laughter bubbling up from my siblings’ end of the table. They knew better than to intervene, opting instead to text memes at each other silently while I got dragged. The “her” in question was someone I had sort of been dating—we’re talking “occasional-movie-night, I’m-not-labeling-this-just-yet” dating—and yes, I’d ghosted her. Not maliciously, but because I thought backing away from something I wasn’t ready for was better than fumbling forward and disappointing her.

Spoiler: I was wrong.

Love Is a Dish Best Served Hot (Or At Least Warm)

It wasn’t until I was back in my Brooklyn apartment later that night, staring at my overflowing hamper and feeling vaguely attacked by my mom’s words, that I realized she had a point. I’d existed in this half-hearted dating limbo for a while. My go-to move whenever things got too “real” was to eject, citing one excuse or another. Work stress. A novel deadline. Fear of showing someone how messy my Netflix “Continue Watching” queue was (seriously, how did I end up halfway through four different rom-coms?).

Here’s what I hadn’t accounted for: relationships—real, lasting ones—don’t thrive on lukewarm effort. They need heat, consistency, care. Ghosting someone or fading quietly into the background isn’t an act of awareness or self-preservation. It’s an act of cowardice. And if you’re anything like how I was, dodging vulnerability because it feels safer to operate on cruise control, here’s the tea: you’re fooling exactly no one, least of all yourself.

When You Hit Emotional Rock Bottom (and Your Mom Is Holding the Flashlight)

Fast-forward four weeks, and I found myself stuck in what I’ll call the Pre-Growth Blues™️. You know the feeling: your flaws have been pointed out, you’ve decided there’s truth to them, and now you’re stumbling around trying to figure out what growth actually looks like without tripping over your ego. I decided to take on the challenge of facing my emotional hesitations: no excuses, no disappearing acts, no “safe distancing” between my feelings and the other person’s.

I called the woman I’d ghosted. We had The Talk—you know, the one where you own up to your acts of sorcery (because ghosting is a kind of dark art) and apologize without expecting fireworks or forgiveness. To my surprise, she didn’t hang up immediately. Instead, she asked me why I’d faded. I told her honestly that I’d been scared. That I was used to protecting parts of myself because I thought it’d make me appear stronger, even though it had the opposite effect. She listened. Then she thanked me. Did my admission fix everything? No. But it made me realize something I hadn’t really faced before: there was an entire emotional spine I needed to grow.

Fixing Your Flirt-to-Familiar Flow

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Okay, Malik, cool story, but I’m not out here getting roasted by my mom. Where do I begin?” Fear not—I’ve got you covered. Here are a few hard-earned lessons from my trip through the emotional wringer:

  • 1. Stop Dancing Around Vulnerability
    Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the emotional equivalent of showing someone your playlist without skipping past the embarrassing tracks. If you’re too afraid to let someone see the parts of you that aren’t curated to perfection, love only operates at arm’s length.

  • 2. Apologies: They’re Magic, but They Need Depth
    Ghosting someone—or avoiding emotional engagement—might feel like the easy way out in the moment. Don’t let fear keep you stuck there. Circle back, own your actions, and craft sincere apologies. Don’t call these “olive branches.” Think of them as planting seeds—things that lead to clarity, not always reconciliation, and that’s okay.

  • 3. Listen, and I Mean Really Listen
    A huge part of improving emotional awareness is learning to listen without drafting a reply while the other person is still talking. If you don’t listen to understand, you’re not building connection; you’re performing politeness.

  • 4. Consistency Is Flirting’s Upgraded Big Sibling
    Sure, flirting is cute and gets the ball rolling. But it’s the follow-through—making the second call, keeping your promises, replying to texts when you said you would—that solidifies things. Consider it the romantic equivalent of showing up for your friends during moving day. Effort, baby. Always effort.

So, Can We Survive the Hard Stuff?

I’ll be real with you: it’s not easy. Funny how the “hard stuff” is rarely a dramatic movie script moment where you’re draped in rain, making some Michael B. Jordan-level romantic confessions. Sometimes it’s sitting in your kitchen at midnight with a cold bowl of cereal, wondering why you keep failing to show someone what they mean to you. But the good news? You’re capable of change. Even when you think you’re not. Especially when you think you’re not.

These days, I’ve stopped being a “lazy romantic.” And while I wouldn’t call myself the poster child for relationship guru vibes just yet, I’m learning. I’m showing up. I’m taking swings at vulnerability instead of dodging it like a defensive lineman. Because, as my mom so casually pointed out over jollof: love (and life) isn’t about coasting. It’s about leaning in.