Relationships

Still Confusing Anxiety for Chemistry? Here’s How to Tell the Difference

February 9, 2026

If your dating history includes at least one person who made you feel like you were in a constant state of “wait…what are we?”—congrats, you’re extremely normal. A lot of us learn the hard way that chaos can feel weirdly magnetic, especially when you’re craving connection and your brain is bored by calm.

On Don’t Think, host Carla Bezanson lays out the dating rules she learned after picking people who felt intense, but never felt safe. Her message is simple: the early phase tells you everything, and if you’re spiraling already, that’s not a spark. That’s information.

Still Confusing Anxiety for Chemistry? Here’s How to Tell the Difference

How it starts is how it ends

“How a relationship starts is how it will always be and how it will end,” Bezanson says. “If there is a problem in the beginning, a significant problem, that problem is probably going to sustain throughout the relationship and end up being the reason that things don’t work out.”

This is what people mean when they say don’t date for potential. We’ve all done it—looked at someone’s red flags and thought, “They’ll grow out of it,” or “Once they realize how much I love them, things will change.” But people only change when they genuinely want to, and you can’t force that. You can force someone to say they’re going to change, but as Bezanson puts it, “There’ll be no action behind those words.”

The hardest part is that walking away doesn’t feel good, especially when you have feelings, especially when your inner child is finally getting some kind of validation. But all you’re doing is delaying the inevitable and making it hurt worse later. “See people for who they are right now,” Bezanson says, “not who they could be if everything magically changed.”

If it feels hard, it’s probably not right

If you have to beg someone to want to see you, convince them to text you back, ask them repeatedly to commit, or plead with them to stop talking to other people—it’s probably always going to feel that hard. “If it feels like too much effort, it’s probably not right,” Bezanson explains. “If it feels that hard, it’s probably always going to feel that hard.”

And she’s speaking from experience. Looking back on her past relationships, she can see clearly that she was always the one pulling—wanting more, wanting commitment, wanting the next step. Eventually they’d give in, but the dynamic never actually changed.

With her current relationship? Completely different. There was never a conversation about exclusivity or labels. It was just obvious. “We didn’t have to do this begging or pushing and pulling,” she says. “We were spending all of our time together. We were seeing each other’s families. We were making plans naturally. There was no confusion.”

That doesn’t mean you have to be texting all day or hanging out every second—but it should feel mutual. It should feel balanced. One person shouldn’t be sitting at home crying while the other can’t be bothered to make an effort. The beginning of a relationship doesn’t have to be perfect, but it shouldn’t feel like you’re constantly fighting for scraps.

@carlabezanson sure makes sense #fyp #foryou ♬ original sound – 🧁 snarly carly

That’s not chemistry—that’s your nervous system

Some people don’t give you butterflies. They give you a low-grade sense of panic that you’ve been calling butterflies for years. If someone makes you feel anxious more than they make you feel secure, that’s your answer. Full stop.

“I don’t care how hot they are,” Bezanson says. “I don’t care how funny they are. I don’t care how strong the chemistry is, how good the sex is, how much money they make. If your baseline state around them is confusion, anxiety, overthinking, rereading texts, wondering where you stand, wondering if you said the wrong thing, walking on eggshells—that’s not excitement. That is literally your nervous system being activated.”

A lot of people recognize this feeling instantly. It’s refreshing their phone even when you know there’s no new text. It’s rereading a conversation looking for hidden meanings. It’s telling your friends, “No, you don’t get it, it’s different with him,” while also crying in your car in a grocery store parking lot.

And the worst part? That emotional roller coaster can feel intoxicating. The highs hit harder because the lows are so low. When someone is hot and cold, distant and then suddenly attentive, your brain locks onto those rare moments of closeness like they’re proof the whole thing is working.

“It’s like gambling,” Bezanson explains. “Of course, it’s fun. Of course, it feels really magical and exciting. It’s kind of a waste of time most of the time. You never really win. The house always wins. Who’s the house in this situation? The men.”

That comparison lands because it feels true.

Not dramatic, just accurate. You keep thinking the next moment, the next text, the next good day is going to make everything make sense. And sometimes it does…for about twelve hours. Then you’re right back to wondering where you stand.

“With the wrong people, my anxiety was constantly triggered. Horrible,” Bezanson says. “With the right person, it’s quieter. I still have anxiety, of course, but they help me calm down. They help my nervous system. They don’t make it 10 times f*cking worse.”

That’s the part people don’t talk about enough. Healthy chemistry doesn’t usually feel like fireworks going off in your chest every five minutes. It feels steady. It feels like you can breathe. It feels like you don’t have to analyze every interaction afterward.

If peace feels boring at first, it might just be unfamiliar. And unfamiliar doesn’t mean wrong. Sometimes it just means you’re finally not in survival mode anymore.

For more insights, tune into Don’t Think with Carla Bezanson, streaming now wherever you get your podcasts.