What makes you *forget* you're trying to impress?

You know that feeling when you’re typing a reply, and you delete it five times? You overthink the punctuation. You wonder if using an emoji makes you look eager or just immature. You’re performing. We’ve all been there, standing on the digital stage, trying to present the most curated, flawless version of ourselves. It’s exhausting. But every once in a while, something shifts. The performance stops. You send a message with a typo, and instead of panicking, you laugh. You mention you’re eating cereal for dinner, and you don’t feel the need to lie and say it’s a homemade risotto. For me, that shift happened when I stopped looking for a quick date nearby and started looking for a connection, regardless of the map. There is something uniquely disarming about long-distance dating. When you take the physical pressure off the table—when you *can’t* just meet up for a drink in twenty minutes—you’re forced to actually communicate. I remember when I first started talking to someone across the ocean. Let’s call her Sarah. At first, I was doing the usual dance. I was trying to be the Cool Guy. I picked my best travel photos. I tried to sound witty. But the time zone difference has a funny way of breaking down your defenses. When you’re waking up and she’s winding down, or vice versa, you catch each other in those raw, unfiltered moments. It’s hard to keep up a facade at 6:00 AM when you haven’t had your coffee yet. One Tuesday, I sent a message complaining about a terrible haircut I’d just gotten. I didn’t even think about it. I just vented. A few hours later, she replied with a photo of herself from high school with disastrous bangs. We spent the next three hours trading our most embarrassing stories. That was the moment the "impressing" stopped and the *connecting* began. I think the environment plays a huge role in this. If you are on an app designed for swiping, you’re stuck in shallow waters. But on a platform built for conversation, the dynamic changes. That’s actually the specific vibe I found on https://myspecialdates.com/, where the focus seemed to shift naturally from "look at me" to "talk to me." When you’re chatting there, the tools are designed to keep the conversation flowing. You aren't just looking at a photo; you're reading about what makes them tick. You find yourself asking real questions. * **You stop worrying about the silence:** In long-distance, a delayed reply isn’t a mind game; it’s usually just because they’re sleeping or working. You learn patience. * **You get niche:** You stop talking about the weather and start talking about that weird sci-fi book series you both love. * **The "Good Morning" hits different:** Waking up to a long, thoughtful paragraph beats a "Wyd?" text any day of the week. The emotional buildup is intense. It’s a slow burn. You spend weeks, maybe months, just learning the map of another person’s mind. You learn their sense of humor, their fears, and how they take their tea, all before you’ve ever shaken their hand. For me, the realization that I wasn't trying to impress anymore came when we started doing "video dates." We weren't dressed up. I was in a hoodie; she was in her pajamas. We just set up our devices and ate dinner "together." It wasn't about looking good. It was about sharing space, even if that space was digital. There is a specific kind of intimacy that comes from knowing someone has seen your messy apartment in the background of a video call and didn't run away. You realize they like *you*, not the resume version of you. And then, of course, comes the reality of the meet. I’ll never forget standing at the arrivals gate. The anxiety was there, sure. But it wasn't the "I hope she likes me" anxiety. It was just the adrenaline of reality crashing into the digital world. I knew she liked me. We’d already covered the hard stuff. We’d argued about movies, laughed at bad jokes, and supported each other through bad work days. When she walked through those sliding doors, it wasn't like meeting a stranger. It was like seeing an old friend you just hadn't seen in a while. The hug wasn't awkward; it was a relief. That’s the beauty of looking further afield. When you remove the immediate pressure to impress physically, you make room for the personality to breathe. You stop performing and start being. And ironically, that’s usually when you become the most impressive version of yourself anyway. So, if you’re tired of the interview process, maybe it’s time to widen your search radius. You might find that the further you look, the closer you feel.