The truth about red flags that everyone ignores
It’s one thing to spot red flags, but quite another to act on them. Here’s why I think that’s so hard to do.
Recently I heard Aussie comedian Nikki Britton tell an outrageous story about dating that made me laugh and also broke my heart a little. While appearing on the Bang On! podcast, she talked about overlooking red flags in dating, revealing she once flew to Perth to meet a man who had “promised the world” over three months of conversations. (For non-Aussies: that’s about a five-hour flight, so this was no small investment.) Her friends begged her not to go, but she went anyway. When she arrived at Perth Airport, however, the guy immediately grabbed her wallet then ran away. Although it happened many years ago, she still recalls the slap of his flip-flops on the asphalt as he bolted with her wallet, never to be seen again.
Besides the hilarity of this story – like any comedian worth their salt, Nikki has spun this disappointing experience into performance gold – what struck me most was this line: “My fatal flaw is my belief in the goodness in humanity. I’m an optimist.”
No judgement towards Nikki – I’ve certainly overlooked plenty of red flags in my time – but I couldn’t help wondering: was that flight really an act of optimism, or was it a wilful refusal to see the red flags? Because it seems to me that sometimes what we think of as tender-heartedness in the face of red flags is actually just FOMO in disguise – so well hidden, we often don’t even recognise it within ourselves. When we think we are ‘seeing the best in people’, despite evidence to the contrary, I suspect we are driven by something much deeper than optimism: fear.
For centuries, red flags were warnings in battle. Sometime in the past decade, that term has evolved to be a warning for unhealthy relationship and work situations that need our urgent attention. A sort of smoke detector, giving us due warning about a likely fire. Red flags exist to tell us that the picture in our head does not align with the reality of the situation, and I regret to inform you that the moment we realise that is the moment we’re going to have to do something about it. In a romantic situation, so saddled with the hopes and dreams of happily-ever-after that we’ve been fed all our lives (especially among women), a red flag about a partner is interrupting the fairytale narrative we believed we were on track to get. So, naturally, we want to override our intuition – the inner knowingness that implores us to act on a red flag – then believe it’s a gesture of optimism. I suspect this decision happens at such a deep subconscious level we’re sometimes not even aware that we’ve done it (which is why red flags are sometimes only clearly visible in the rearview mirror, after the shit has hit the fan).
Our intuition is always guiding us in the right direction, but we are terrified of missing out on the thing we want. We dig in our heels and stay in the toxic workplace, the dysfunctional relationship, the one-sided friendship, because we are deathly afraid that this is our best shot at happiness, and that if we walk away, we’re never going to get what we yearn for. But the Universe knows better. It knows there’s a healthier, happier and more sustainable situation ahead. Our job is to believe in the good outcome that we cannot yet see. Like so many facets of personal growth, it is a game of trust. And that is why it is hard.
The ability to recognise and – most importantly – act on red flags comes down to how much we trust that the Universe has our best interests at heart. We have to be willing to see things as they really are, and simultaneously trust that the Universe is beckoning us towards something better. To act on the red flags, in spite of the fear, and know that the sooner we get out of the unsustainable situation, the sooner we are open to a healthier one. It isn’t enough just to see the red flags, we need to listen to our intuition and act on them. That takes courage and faith. Thankfully, both are within our reach.