This story is about going on a date, but it’s not actually about that. It’s about much more than that — listening to your gut, burrowing deep into your knowing, and being sure enough of it to trust it.

It was the fall of 2018. I’d recently moved to the Fargo-Moorhead area, I’d started a new job, and I’d re-downloaded Tinder for the who-knows-how-many-ith time.

This “download, swipe, delete” is a common storyline for women in their 20s. It’s a throughline that connects every single millennial woman and the reality that showcases the complicated ways we try to find connection in this world. Download, swipe, delete. Pause. Download, swipe, go on a date, delete. Repeat.

We hear this story from another woman. We nod. We understand. It’s rough out there, especially on the screens. There are men with large fish and men with large egos, men with only shirtless selfies and men surrounded by other men so you don’t actually know which man is the one named Derek or Zach or Joe. So when you find someone you’re excited to talk to and get to know, it feels rare. Because it is.

One weekend while visiting Megan in the Twin Cities, I was in a “download” phase. I had Tinder on my phone and swiped a bit. I matched with someone and felt that excited buzz. I did not live in the Twin Cities at the time, but I was upfront about that. We texted quite a bit on the app. Then we moved to actual texting. Then we added Snapchat to the mix and the fact that we can communicate with humans in our lives on countless apps is one of the most exhausting parts of being human in this era.

Jack (we’ll call him Jack) was funny and witty and kind. He had a socially-conscious job. He had hobbies that were intriguing — hiking and board games and listening to NPR. He seemed to exhibit emotional intelligence and there was not a single fish in his profile photos. I thought, “Huh!”

So, the next time I was in the Twin Cities, I decided to meet Jack. We’d go out for dinner and drinks that evening, around 6:00pm. It was a plan. It was a date!

Except, all of a sudden it was 4:30pm, and I was still sitting on Megan’s couch. I hadn’t showered, though I desperately needed one. The five outfit options I’d brought with me were still tucked away in my suitcase. My nails, which I’d vowed to paint before this date, were still chipped.

I told Megan that I wanted to go, but I was still sitting here because I was just nervous! And because it’d been a while since I’d dated! And because the last person I’d talked to on this dating app had sent me not 7, not 8, but 13 messages in a row once before I finally responded. I told Megan that I’d get up and start getting ready so soon. I’d get up in just a few. It was only 5:15pm at this point; I still had a solid 30 minutes!

Her reply?

“If you wanted to go, you’d already be dressed.”

As soon as Megan said these words to me, I nodded and thought, “Huh.” Because how many times in my life have I been so excited for something, so ready to go, that I could hardly wait another instant? The night before school when it’s impossible to go to bed. The moments before publishing something on my blog. Even other dates, where I showed up 15 minutes too early and awkwardly waited in my car for 21 minutes so I could walk in a casual and acceptable five minutes late.

But there I was, unprepared and unshowered and, apparently, unenthused about this date. My body and my gut were telling me that I didn’t want to go; I had to let my mind catch up before I accepted it.

Now, I’m sure if I had gone on that date, it would have been fine. I did feel like a bit of an asshole for cancelling so soon before. I apologized profusely and explained what was my truth: I thought I was ready and feeling it, but I was wrong. My body was telling me so. I couldn’t show up and fake it.

And that’s become the threshold — reminder — for trusting my gut. Would I already be dressed? Because in this decade, I’ve learned that my gut is almost always right — especially with romance.

It’ll tell me when I should keep moving forward even when it doesn’t make sense, like dating someone who was moving across the country two days later. “Do it,” my gut said. It’ll be worth it!” And it was.

It’ll tell me when I should step back or stop, like when I went on a blind date with someone who spent 45 minutes telling me about how the Illuminati was controlling the Earth (and that the Earth was actually a snow globe!). “Evacuate!” my gut said. “You do not have to stay and listen to this!” So I left.

I’m amazed at how often I try to convince myself the opposite of what my body and my gut tell me. It’s not always that simple and laid out there for us, but sometimes — it just is. Sometimes all we have to do is get quiet, listen, and ask our own version of the question:

Would I already be dressed?