My friend Gina invited me to an evening swimwear fashion show at a local hotel in Waikiki. I had no idea what it entailed but I was up for the adventure. She sent me a link to purchase a ticket the week before the event, and I made sure to secure my spot before it sold out.
The day of the event, we arrived at the hotel and fell in line for the check-in located in the open-air hotel lobby near the pool. At the end of the line was a guy named *Jake, who I knew from surfing. By “knew him,” I mean that I knew his first name, that he worked in telecommunications, and that his mom lived in Vegas. That’s it. Any other conversations were hi, bye, and small talk about the surf conditions.
“Hi!” Jake said overzealously.
“Oh hey, Jake. How are you?” I sounded friendly even though I was uncertain because Jake and I didn’t know each other well enough for him to be that happy to see me. That is when I noticed that he was alone. Don’t get me wrong, I like doing things alone, but it wasn’t the kind of event that someone would go to alone.
“Good,” he said nervously before continuing, “Do you guys have tickets?”
“Yeah, we got them online. This is my friend Gina, by the way.” I said gesturing to Gina. I then turned to Jake to introduce him to Gina. “This is Jake. I know him from surfing.”
They exchanged hellos and Jake continued, “The online ticket sales have closed. Can I tag along with you guys to see if I can get in with you?”
I could feel his desperate and needy energy clinging on to me like a Portuguese man o’ war that death grips its tentacles to your skin. Instead of physical pain, I felt emotionally uncomfortable and unsafe. I didn’t even know him very well and he was desperate for me to get him into this event for whatever reason. And what if he did get in? He’d probably want to tag along, which would be even more painful. I didn’t know what to do.
So, I made his discomfort more important than my discomfort and responded to his request to tag along with, “Sure!” My critical inner voice immediately barraged me:
What are you doing? You just ruined the entire night. You can’t do anything right.
Further adding to my shame spiral was the memory of a podcast interview that I had just done the week before. The conversation turned to boundaries, and I told the host about how great my boundaries were now, which I honestly thought they were. After years of therapy, coaching, and painful lessons, I’ve worked hard to stop abandoning myself.
You are a fraud. Your boundaries are horrible.
Unfortunately, the line was moving fast, which didn’t leave much time to think. Worst of all, I didn’t know how to communicate to Gina that we needed to ditch Jake ASAP. To add to the awkwardness, I continued to make small talk with Jake. “So, how did you hear about this event?”
“Ben* texted me.”
I internally gasped. Ben was suspiciously creepy. Like Jake, I only knew him from surfing. He used to openly flirt with another surfer, Samuel, despite both Ben and Samuel being married to women. Also, whenever I saw Ben, he was over-the-top complimentary to me. The last time I saw him before the Jake encounter, he paddled up to me and said, “Hi Angie! You look so beautiful today. You always look so beautiful. Every time I think about you, it makes me smile. I just love it when I see you out in the water. The best part about you is that you are beautiful inside and out. I love being around you.” As usual, he kept going with the excessive compliments until the ocean delivered a wave for my exit opportunity. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate compliments, but Ben was always so exaggerated that it almost felt manipulative. Any time I saw him, my skin crawled and I went into fight or flight mode and planned my escape wave.
The fact that Ben texted Jake meant that they had somewhat of a connection outside of surfing. I looked at Jake to see if he could read how panicked I was. He didn’t notice at all because he was too busy looking down at my body, which I found strange. After all, I was wearing more clothes than I usually did when I saw him surfing.
Just as I was about to have a panic attack, it was our turn to approach the ticket table. Gina and I each went to different check-in people and Brad leached on to Gina. I didn’t even ask my check-in person if there were any more tickets. Gina had tried to ask and was unsuccessful, so Brad came over to me, but I had already received my wristband.
“They aren’t selling any more tickets,” he said, defeated.
“Oh darn.” I hoped I sounded convincing. “Have a good night!” I said as Gina and I entered the event.
I immediately filled her in on everything she needed to know about Jake and Ben and then ended with regret, “Why didn’t I have any boundaries? That was so uncomfortable!”
“And why does he want to come to this event alone? All the models are teenagers.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes. And this is a swimwear fashion show, so they are going to be in bathing suits.”
It was a good thing he didn’t get in because my boundaries were not enough to keep him out.
I walked away from that night reminded that boundaries aren’t an end goal, they’re a daily practice. A muscle that needs to be flexed, especially when it feels uncomfortable. Saying “yes” when I meant “no” left me feeling small, anxious, and out of alignment with myself. But the real lesson? I’m still growing. And sometimes growth looks like recognizing the moment after we betray ourselves, so we can choose differently next time.
If you’ve ever said yes to keep the peace while your insides screamed no, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to keep abandoning yourself to be liked, accepted, or avoid awkwardness. Boundaries are love in action for yourself.
If this hit home for you, share this post or leave a comment and tell me: When was the last time you said “yes” when you really wanted to say “no”? Let’s talk about it. Shame loses its power when we bring it into the light.
*Names have been changed
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