Later that evening, Nia met Lola at their favorite wine bar—Velvet Palate, a cozy spot tucked inside a converted townhouse. The lighting was warm, the playlists curated by a guy named Malik who played everything from Nina Simone to Beyoncé depending on his mood.
Lola was already seated at their regular table near the fireplace, wearing leather pants, sky-high heels, and a look that dared anyone to try her patience tonight.
"Well?" she asked before Nia had even taken a seat.
Nia slid into the chair opposite her with a sigh. "He ghosted."
Lola rolled her eyes. "Of course he did."
"I know, I know. You warned me."
"No, *you* warned yourself. You literally said, 'He's cute, but he's definitely an F-Boy.' And then you went out with him anyway."
"I romanticize potential," Nia admitted. "I see the sparkle and think maybe—he'll be different."
"You say that every time."
"I know."
Lola sipped her Cabernet. "Okay. Let's dissect this, girl. What's the difference between the men you date and the men you should be dating?"
Nia considered. "The ones I date are flashy, smooth talkers, emotionally distant. The ones I should date are consistent, emotionally available, present."
"But you go for the former."
"Every damn time."
"Why?"
Nia frowned. "I don't know. Maybe because excitement feels safer than stability?"
Lola arched a brow. "Explain."
"When I was growing up, stability was rare. My mom worked three jobs, barely slept, cried alone at night. Stability felt like exhaustion. But the men who came through—some of them were fun, some of them were dangerous. Either way, they brought chaos disguised as excitement."
Lola nodded slowly. "So maybe to you, chaos is familiar. And familiarity, even if dysfunctional, feels safe."
"Exactly."
Lola sighed. "Girl, you need to stop romanticizing the drama and start appreciating the peace."
---
**The Queen of Real Talk**
Lola had been Nia's best friend since freshman year of college, when they met during orientation week at Howard University. They were assigned as roommates—two Black women from vastly different backgrounds forced into shared living quarters. At first, it was rocky. Nia was reserved, focused on academics, and always dressed like she was about to attend a board meeting. Lola was bold, outspoken, and walked around campus like she owned it.
But over time, their differences became strengths. Nia grounded Lola. Lola challenged Nia. Together, they balanced each other out.
After graduation, they moved to New York together. Lola worked in PR while Nia built her business from scratch. Through breakups, career wins, financial struggles, and family losses, they had been there for each other—through thick and thin.
And no one called Nia out like Lola did.
She was the kind of friend who would tell you your weave looked off and help you fix it. Who would call you out for being stubborn and remind you how brilliant you were. She was love wrapped in truth, with a side of sass.
Which is why Nia trusted her more than anyone else.
Even now, after yet another failed attempt at dating someone emotionally unavailable, Lola didn't judge her. She just looked at her like she was a grown woman who still hadn't learned her lesson.
"You're too smart for this mess," Lola said, swirling her wine glass. "You run a multi-million-dollar company. You dress better than most celebrities. You've traveled the world. You have *options*. So why are you wasting time on a man who doesn't show up?"
Nia sighed. "Because part of me still believes I can fix them."
Lola nearly choked on her wine. "Fix them? Girl, you're not a therapist or a miracle worker. These men aren't broken—they're chosen. They choose not to commit. They choose to keep women guessing. They choose to disappear when things get real."
Nia leaned back in her chair. "Maybe I'm afraid of what happens if I stop chasing."
"What do you mean?"
"If I stop giving my energy to these men… what's left? Just me. Alone. And sometimes, that feels scarier than heartbreak."
Lola reached across the table and placed her hand over Nia's. "You're never really alone. You have me. You have your family. You have your work. And most importantly—you have yourself."
Nia blinked back tears. "It's just… hard."
"I know. Healing always is."
---
**The Truth About Men and Memories**
They sat in silence for a moment, the soft hum of jazz filling the space between them.
Then Lola spoke again. "Tell me something."
"Anything."
"When was the last time a man made you feel truly seen? Not desired. Not flattered. Not chased. But actually *seen*—for who you are, not just what you represent?"
Nia thought about it.
Her mind went to Elijah—the man she had once been engaged to. For a short while, she believed he saw her. He remembered small details—how she liked her coffee, what songs made her dance, what books she was reading. He laughed at her jokes, listened when she talked, and held her when she cried.
But eventually, he pulled away.
When she tried to connect on a deeper level, he shut down. He avoided conversations about the future, grew distant, and stopped showing up emotionally.
By the end, she felt like a shadow of herself.
"I thought Elijah saw me," she finally said. "But I realize now that he only saw the version of me that suited him."
Lola nodded. "That's not seeing someone. That's projecting onto them."
Nia exhaled. "I guess I've never really had that. A relationship where both people show up equally. Where love isn't conditional."
"That's exactly what you deserve," Lola said firmly. "And until you believe that, you'll keep settling for less."
---
**A Conversation That Cut Deep**
Lola leaned forward, setting her wine glass down. "Let me ask you something else."
"Shoot."
"When you imagine your life five years from now… who's in it?"
Nia hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe someone. Maybe no one."
Lola tilted her head. "What does that say about how you view love?"
"It says I still want it. But I'm scared to build my happiness around it."
"And that's smart. Because love shouldn't be the foundation of your life—it should be the cherry on top."
Nia smiled faintly. "That's poetic."
"It's true. You've built a beautiful life, Nia. Don't let a man become the center of it unless he's willing to stand beside you—not above you, not behind you, but right next to you."
Nia nodded slowly. "I want that."
"Then stop dating men who can't give it."
Easier said than done.
But Nia knew Lola was right.
---
**Rewriting the Rules**
As the night wore on, the conversation turned lighter. They gossiped about mutual friends, laughed at old memories, and toasted to surviving their own poor choices in men.
But underneath the laughter was a shift.
Something subtle, but powerful.
For the first time in a long time, Nia wasn't just venting. She was reflecting. Processing. Growing.
And that change started with honesty—from Lola, and from herself.
"I'm going to therapy again next week," she said suddenly.
Lola raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Yes. Again. And this time, I'm not just going to talk about Marcus. I'm going to talk about all of it. My past relationships. My fears. My patterns."
Lola grinned. "Now you're speaking my language."
Nia took a sip of her wine. "I want to understand why I keep doing this. Why I keep choosing men who make me feel second-best."
"And when you figure it out, you'll stop."
"I hope so."
"You will."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're stronger than you think. And you've got me dragging you toward healing whether you like it or not."
Nia laughed. "Damn right you do."
---
**Back to Therapy**
The following week, Nia sat across from Dr. Gadot again, ready to dive deeper.
"I had a conversation with my best friend last night," she began. "And it changed something in me."
Dr. Gadot smiled. "Tell me about it."
"She basically told me that I romanticize chaos. That I confuse excitement with connection. And that I've spent my whole life looking for validation in the wrong places."
"And how did that land with you?"
"At first, I was defensive. Then… I realized she was right."
"That's huge, Nia."
"I know. And I want to unpack that. Why do I equate excitement with love? Why do I keep choosing men who leave me feeling uncertain?"
Dr. Gadot leaned forward. "That's exactly what we're here to explore."
---
**The Psychology of Excitement vs. Security**
Over the next hour, Dr. Gadot led Nia through a deeper exploration of attraction, attachment styles, and emotional patterns.
"We tend to fall for people who mirror our early experiences with love," she explained. "If your childhood taught you that love is unpredictable—comes and goes, appears unexpectedly, disappears without warning—then as an adult, you may unconsciously seek out partners who reflect that instability."
Nia nodded. "That makes sense. My father left. My mother never remarried. I grew up watching her struggle to raise me alone. Stability felt exhausting. Love felt fleeting."
"So you associate love with intensity, not consistency."
"Exactly."
"And that's why you're drawn to charismatic, emotionally unavailable men. Because they offer that same rush of unpredictability. The highs feel euphoric. The lows feel devastating. But it's what you know."
Nia swallowed. "It's familiar."
"And familiar—even if painful—feels safer than the unknown."
Nia wiped a tear from her cheek. "So how do I change that?"
"We rewire the pattern. We learn to find comfort in stability. We practice receiving love without trying to earn it. And we begin to see ourselves as worthy of partnership—not as a prize to be won, but as a person who deserves to be cherished."
Nia looked at her therapist, heart full. "That sounds… incredible."
"It is. And it starts with you."
---
**A New Kind of Love Story**
As Nia left the session, she felt something stir inside her—a quiet confidence, a sense of clarity.
She didn't need to chase love anymore.
She needed to cultivate it within herself.
And when the right person came along?
She'd be ready.
Not desperate.
Not searching.
Just open.
And whole.
---
**A Surprise at Home**
When Nia arrived home, she found a surprise waiting for her.
A message from Andre.
Andre—the quiet, grounded engineer she had recently met through a mutual friend.
She opened the message:
"Hey Nia. Hope you're having a good day. Thought I'd check in and see if you'd like to grab dinner sometime."
She stared at the screen.
This was different.
No games.
No disappearing acts.
No late-night texts followed by days of silence.
Just a simple, straightforward question.
And for once, she didn't hesitate.
She typed back:
"I'd like that very much. How about Friday?"
She hit send.
And for the first time in a long time, she wasn't chasing.
She was choosing.
And that, she realized, was the beginning of something new.