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It’s been too long, friends. Time to confess and unburden.
A while back, I put out a call for you to send me your regrets. Not your “I shouldn't have eaten that third slice of pizza” regrets, but the real stuff. And boy did you deliver.
We learned about a reader who broke up with her longtime boyfriend because she was feeling bored and now many years later fears she lost the love of her life and will end up alone. We learned about a reader who regrets losing his cool with his children threatening to strand them on the shores of Lake Superior. We also learned about the lab RA who wanted to show their lab mates what they were made of and ended up streaking in the quad, waking up the next morning passed out in bushes in their birthday suit. I also shared with you the time I belittled one of my senior colleagues playing department politics.
The idea behind these monthly confessionals is that I will share your regrets and tell you what I regret writing or saying over the past month or two. Reflecting on the things we have done wrong and admitting to that wrongdoing makes the world a better place. Am I overstating the power of guilt admission? Maybe. But I can’t help but feel that we carry regrets like Walter carries Vietnam: too heavy, too often, too loud. Consider this your cue to put the bag down and exhale. I only have a few regrets left to write about, but if you want to unload, feel free to do that here by using this anonymous form.
Our first regret comes from a reader who goes by lemoncocacola.
I didn’t go to Erasmus (a semester-long scholarship to France) because I was in love with a guy at home and I did not want to leave him for 6 months. He left me 2 years later (after 8 years together) for another woman; they then gave their son the exact name he and I had picked. My lesson: Never prioritize love before professional growth, put yourself first.
First, I’m sorry lemoncocacola. To build your life around someone and then watching that person walk away is heartbreaking. On top of the breakup, you got a petty little twist of the knife with the baby-name thing. That hurts. You’re allowed to grieve what you lost and what you thought you were building.
Now for the part you might not like. I don’t buy the lesson you’ve drawn: “Never prioritize love before professional growth; put yourself first.” That sounds wise in the rear-view mirror, but it’s mostly hindsight bias, no? If the relationship had lasted, would you be writing to say, “Always put love first”? That’s outcome bias. The choice you made then—staying for someone you loved—was reasonable given your values and limited information.
If there’s a rule at all, maybe it’s this: choose the thing you’ll be proud to have chosen, even if the ending isn’t the one you hoped for.
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I hesitated before deciding to publish the next regret. It landed in my inbox after my confession about Jesse Singal, and it touches the radioactive subject of trans politics, and the even hotter reactor core of detransition. I am not particularly interested in discussing trans issues, mostly because the conversation stopped being normal a long time ago. It is at the heart of today’s culture war, and I try to pick my battles. I’ve made enemies talking about science reform, AI alarmism, and Jew hatred and I can’t afford to lose more. But I promised to publish the regrets I received. So here we go...
