What are you afraid of?

Here's why I'd rather you reflected than "resolved" this New Year...

Dec 27, 2024

There are studies that show the overwhelming majority of New Year’s resolutions fail in Western cultures. Some of the reasons for this include the scale of individual goals (think I want to lose 10kg rather than one kilogram), a lack of accountability, obstacles (like cost or overcrowded gyms), and a lack of intrinsic drive or motivation to achieve the change you want to see. Moreover, goals that are set without a genuine need often seem harder to sustain.

That’s not to say New Year’s resolutions are a waste of time; people whose goals are SMART-aligned and socialised in some way, with others holding them accountable, often see results.

For example, members of Alcoholics Anonymous typically achieve greater success than New Year resolvers in part due to structure and accountability, using group meetings and a buddy system. Many people join AA because they want to; others are pushed there by loved ones threatening to walk away. But it’s the people who truly want to be there, who act out of personal resolve rather than external pressure, that are more likely to sustain sobriety.

This idea – that doing something because you think you should might be the worst reason to do it – has stuck with me, especially after reflecting on mine and Beth’s relationship, which came to an end earlier this month.

What follows is a frank and candid discussion in which Beth and I discuss what went wrong, in the hope that you can take some of our hard-learned lessons and apply them to your own relationships – with yourself, and others – as we go into a new calendar year.

Jack: Let’s start by setting the scene, shall we. When we met in October 2023, we were both clear about not wanting a relationship. I was passionately preoccupied with work and had just discovered a deep appreciation for my own time and space.

Beth: Whereas I had plans to travel to Mexico and wanted to further explore my sexuality.

Jack: But, in a tale as old as time, one thing led to another. The more time we spent together – and enjoyed spending with each other – the more we felt external pressures to put a conventional label on our dynamic, despite it being unlike any relationship either of us had been in before. That first conversation about the exclusive “relationship” label also included discussions about my planned trip to Southeast Asia, which I started in July this year. We committed to giving things a go regardless of continuing to interrogate whether that was the best idea for us individually, as well as collectively.

First we did long distance for three months – a dynamic, which, previously, I’d not enjoyed – and then travelling together for an equivalent period after you quit your job to go freelance. You were so excited to make the leap, and I was super proud of you for taking it, but, looking back, we see now that neither of us was brave enough to assert what we truly needed as individuals.

Beth: I think while we were long distance we both missed each other a lot… but while we did have some conversations about me coming and joining you, we maybe didn’t stop for long enough to interrogate whether that meant we should do a 180 and start spending all day every day together…

Jack: For sure – we’d both said when we’d started dating in October that we’d each moved in with a partner too soon previously, and were keen not to repeat that. But then travelling together is effectively moving in, with the stress of always moving on. In hindsight, would you say that when we were at our most unorthodox we were probably at our happiest?

Beth: Definitely. Our version of a relationship was more like a creative, energy-fuelled partnership: one where we inspired each other, challenged each other – with work projects and fitness goals – and carved out space for our individual pursuits, including exploring our sexual interests independently. Yet, somewhere along the way, we lost sight of that, bowing to external pressures to make things look more traditional. We let go of the original dynamic and mindlessly replaced it with something that felt safer, but ultimately less authentic to who we are.

Jack: One of the things that we bonded over early doors was our experience of friendship; at different points in our lives we’ve each struggled with feelings of loneliness, or ‘otherness’. Do you think that confused things?

Beth: For sure – finding someone who understood us in ways that few others have on a dating app meant we didn’t really stop to interrogate whether we should date – or if, actually, we’d just accidentally found a best friend.

Jack: I think we were always going to struggle in a heteronormative relationship. Particularly given what we’d found made us happy (and turned us on) and told each other about. Putting a straight label on something unconventional, atypical, alternative – round pegs in square holes so to speak – you could say it was a safe move but in the wrong direction.

Beth: When you say ‘heteronormative’, what elements do you think you’ve struggled with?

Jack: I think patriarchal convention influenced me in ways I didn’t realise until the relationship had already broken down, including this – let’s face it – unattractive and unnecessary obligation to ‘look after’ or ‘protect’ you while travelling, which, as we’ve discussed, killed my libido stone dead.

Beth: Yeah, that was tough to hear, but I get it: getting curb crawled when I was walking slowly behind you in Vientiane, in Laos, brought home the reality for me that it is safer for men to undertake the sort of trip we’ve both been on.

From my side, in the last few years I’ve been hyper conscious of loved ones getting engaged, buying houses and having kids – something I know I don’t want and that you also expressed disinterest in early doors. I think maybe I mistook that kinship for some grander sign from the universe that we should be together.

My struggle with heteronormativity has come from a perceived social pressure to want those things. While I’ve been proudly out as bisexual since my university days, I’ve realised off the back of our relationship breakdown that I’ve maybe defaulted to dating men – indeed, a Mann – because it was more familiar, and perhaps, by extension easier. Particularly having Christmas away from home clarified that for me; I’ve always been conscious of being the only not straight – as far as I know – member of my immediate family. But it’s been this nebulous, unarticulated feeling that’s only come to light following the chats we’ve had this week.

Jack: Yeah I think it’s fair to say we didn’t break up because of any big revelations about sexuality, so much as a realisation of our respective need to be by ourselves as we interrogate what we want – professionally, personally, geographically – but I know we’re already going into 2025 with a deeper understanding of who we are and what we want from life, nevermind prospective new relationships.

Beth: Yep, for me that might include dating more women… and for you, that probably means spending less time with other people!

Jack: Hah… yeah, yeah. Monk mode activated.

For us, ultimately, it was only by having these difficult conversations – acknowledging where we lost sight of ourselves and our individual needs – that we’ve started to grow again, as individuals and as a team.

So if you’re struggling to come up with a SMART goal for the New Year, here’s another way to approach the “new year, new me” mindset:

What’s the question you’re too scared to ask? OR the conversation you’re avoiding having – even with yourself?

Because sometimes, the best way to move forward isn’t to add something new, but to strip away what’s no longer serving you.

Coach Jack Mann’s Substack

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Coach Jack Mann’s Substack

What are you afraid of?

Here's why I'd rather you reflected than "resolved" this New Year...

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Discussion about this post