Are Spiritual People Better at Fooling Themselves in Relationships?

Passion...?

Lately, I’ve re-entered the dating scene — bouncing, as I often do, between dating “spiritual” women and what I call “normal” women (you know, ones who don’t talk about moon cycles or past lives in the first five minutes).

And it’s got me thinking:

Are spiritual people actually more conscious in relationships — or just better at spiritualizing their self-deception?

I mean, I hear it all the time.

“My brother’s dating this awful woman who makes fun of him all the time.” “My best friend’s boyfriend is definitely a narcissist.” “They’re just not spiritually aligned anymore.”

Or maybe… that’s just your opinion?

Maybe you spend a little too much time psychoanalyzing other people’s dysfunction instead of doing the work you need to do?

Ah — sorry. I came in hot there. But that’s the point.

I started wondering if the word “spiritual” (which, for the record, makes me cringe) has become a costume we wear to avoid the very messiness we’re supposed to be working through.

Because I’ve been that guy — emotionally entangled, energetically fried, but swearing it was “karmic” and “divinely timed.”

In reality? It was just bad decisions with incense and a yoga mat.

So here’s my honest breakdown, story by story, of how “spirituality” helped me fool myself in love — and what it took to finally stop.

1. Suffering Disguised as Growth

Spiritual teaching: “Pain is a portal.” Reality: Sometimes it’s just pain.

Mid-20s. Passion like lightning. It felt like our souls were doing aerial flips through the cosmos. Sex was wild. Energy was electric. The karmic heat? Off the charts.

But the fights?

We screamed. We slammed. We cursed each other out like exorcisms were part of our love language.

And what did I tell myself?

“This is sacred fire. We’re burning through layers. This is what transformation looks like.”

Nah.

We were in a codependent explosion, and I was calling it enlightenment. It wasn’t a phoenix rising — it was a dumpster fire with good lighting.

2. Overemphasis on Compassion (The Wounded Bird Syndrome)

Spiritual teaching: “See the divine in everyone.” Reality: That doesn’t mean you should date them.

Early 30s. She was a broken little baby bird on the side of the emotional highway — and I, of course, was the self-appointed healer on a mission.

I told myself I saw her soul. I told myself this was my calling. I told myself love heals all wounds.

And then… she told me I reminded her of her “dead incest baby” and her brother.

Yeah. That sentence still makes my nervous system flinch.

And somehow, I still stayed. Still clung to the narrative of, “She’s just wounded. I can love her through this.”

I wasn’t healing anything. I was avoiding myself — and calling it compassion.

3. Mistaking Chemistry for Destiny

Spiritual teaching: “There are no coincidences.” Reality: Some things are just… weird timing.

We met at a massage training seminar. She was unwinding during a cathartic release when she let out a scream that, in my mind, became a golden musical note floating across the room and landing on my chest.

That was it. I was done. My soul was sold.

Because obviously… that meant something. Right?

Wrong.

It meant I had no boundaries and was high on dopamine and fantasy. We dove in with zero clarity. All feelings, no foundation.

And while there were good moments, the whole thing was built on a story I made up in my head — and then tried to live in like a spiritual Airbnb.

4. Spiritual Bypassing (The Mirror Trap)

Spiritual teaching: “Everyone is a mirror.” Reality: That doesn’t mean you have to date your reflections.

Then there was the woman who cracked me open so deeply, I ended up in men’s work.

At the end of our relationship, she looked me in the eye and said:

“You have no fire.”

And damn, it hurt. Like… chest-caving, ego-shattering, existential-crisis-in-the-freezer-aisle hurt.

But she was right.

I had shape-shifted into someone I thought she’d want. I stopped speaking up. Stopped showing up. Doused my own fire just to keep her warm.

And the worst part?

I called it growth.

I told myself, “She’s my mirror. She’s helping me evolve.” When in reality, I used that spiritual cliché to justify my own abandonment of self.

So… Are Spiritual People Better at Fooling Themselves?

Honestly?

Yeah. Sometimes.

We’re masters of rebranding dysfunction as destiny. We cloak chaos in divine timing. We call enmeshment “soul work.” We call fantasy “intuition.” And pain? We call it a portal.

But here’s the thing:

Spiritual people who actually do the work — the gritty, raw, uncomfortable shadow work — they become the least fooled.

Because they stop running. They stop bypassing. They stop confusing longing with love.

And they start learning how to sit with the truth, however unsexy or unmagical it may be.

That’s when healing begins. That’s when fire returns. That’s when you stop giving your power away and start becoming the one you were chasing.

If you’ve read this far and felt called out, cracked open, or weirdly validated — welcome. You’re not broken. You’re becoming more honest.

And that’s the most spiritual thing you can do.