The A La Carte

I’ve had a few conversations lately that have made me think about the difference between being needed and being wanted.

Last week, I wrote about a business owner who told me how much he trusted me, especially because he doesn’t feel like he has many people around him he can trust. In a different conversation, that same person told me I was “quite handy to know,” and that was before he even knew what I did for a living.

It was meant as a compliment, and I took it as one. I am pretty handy to know.

I listen. I remember things. I see the gaps other people miss. I can step into chaos, figure out how all the pieces fit together and make things run more smoothly. Recently, someone handed me a major chunk of their business and trusted me to organize an entire move for them. I do not take that lightly.

Ask me what I bring to a business, and I can give you a list.

Ask me what I bring to a relationship, and I suddenly struggle to answer.

I mean, I think I’m funny. I’m kind. I pay attention. I remember the small things. I think about the other person and what they need, often before I think about what I need.

But even as I write that, I have to question it.

Is putting someone else’s needs before my own really something I bring to a relationship? Or is it how I try to earn my place in one?

I’ve realized that I find much of my value and worth in what I can do for other people. Professionally, that works pretty well for me. People have problems, and I help solve them. There are results I can point to. The business is more organized. The project gets finished. The move gets managed. The chaos becomes a little more controlled.

There is a scoreboard.

Relationships don’t work that way, or at least they probably shouldn’t.

I know I get uncomfortable when people try to help me. The funny thing is that part of me would love to be taken care of. Not in the sense that I want to sit around while someone else runs my life. I would get absolutely bored. But I would love to know what it feels like to have someone notice what I need, step in without being asked and make things a little easier for me.

The problem is that I’m not sure I would know how to receive it.

When you’re used to being the helper, accepting help can feel strangely vulnerable. When you’re used to earning love through achievement, care without a transaction attached can be difficult to trust.

At least when I’m useful, I understand why someone keeps me around.

I can’t say that I remember ever feeling truly wanted. Not even in my last relationship.

Looking back, I think I was convenient and helpful until I stopped being as convenient and helpful. Then, somehow, the relationship stopped too.

I know relationships are more complicated than one simple explanation. Still, it is hard not to absorb the message underneath an experience like that. If someone stays while you are making their life easier and leaves when you can no longer do that, it reinforces the belief that your usefulness is what made you worth keeping.

I see versions of this in friendships too.

Some of my closest friendships began with me being helpful. That does not mean there isn’t real love in those relationships now. There is. But being useful was often the doorway. I helped. I listened. I showed up. I handled things. I made myself valuable, and somewhere along the way, a friendship grew around it.

It makes me wonder whether I’ve learned how to be loved, or whether I’ve learned how to become indispensable.

Being needed can feel a lot like being secure. If someone relies on me, they have a reason to keep me in their life. I know what role I play. I know what I contribute. I don’t have to wonder why I’m there.

Being wanted is different.

Being wanted means believing my presence is enough of a reason.

It means someone wants to talk to me even when they don’t need advice. They want to spend time with me even when I’m not helping with a project. They think of me when there is nothing I can do for them. They make room for my needs without treating those needs as an inconvenience.

That sounds lovely.

It also sounds terrifying.

I hide my needs. I overdo for other people. I make myself helpful, accommodating and easy to need. Then I quietly hope someone will notice that I need things too.

Maybe I have chosen the wrong people at times. I’m sure that is part of it. But I also have to consider whether I’ve chosen people who allow me to remain in my safest role: the person who gives more, needs less and earns affection by being useful.

If that is the role I know how to play, it makes sense that I keep finding relationships where it is needed.

The harder question is who I am when no one needs anything from me.

What do I bring when there is no problem to solve?

Maybe I bring humor. Curiosity. Loyalty. A willingness to listen and understand the whole story. Random observations. Deep conversations. Probably a little chaos. I remember details that make people feel seen. I care deeply, even when I sometimes pretend not to. I can turn an ordinary errand into an adventure, and I’m excellent company from a shaded patio.

Those things don’t produce a completed checklist or a beautifully organized spreadsheet. They are harder to measure.

But maybe they count anyway.

I don’t know what being wanted without earning it feels like. I’m not even sure I would recognize it right away. I might question it, resist it or immediately start searching for something I could do to repay it.

What I am beginning to understand is that being useful and being loved are not the same thing.

Maybe the next thing I need to learn isn’t how to give more. I already know how to do that.

Maybe it’s how to stop treating my existence like an invoice that always has to be paid.