Manifesting Is Bullshit

Against instinct, I tried writing manifest lists to find the perfect partner to date. It didn’t work but I’m glad I tried it

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

I’m a dreamer—always have been, always will be. I can’t help it. And I make an effort to turn my dreams into reality.

For instance, when I was applying to college, I didn’t get into my first choice. In fact, I didn’t get into any good choices. So I went to community college for two years, raised my grades, applied again, then got an acceptance from my first choice.

Or how I wanted to travel the world. I learned about the site StudentUniverse, where there were discounts on flights, and sometimes other deals. Plus, since my student ID expired a few years after I graduated, I exploited it for as long as I could.

But my dating life is very lackluster, to say the least, but this essay isn’t really about that. This is about the lie of manifesting shit, making things happen as if by magic. I suspected it was all a con, but I had my hopes up, especially since the believers in manifesting were so smug. It didn’t last long for them. Let me back up a bit.

Since January 2020 (oh yes, there is a story there, for another time), I have been a nomad. There are a few Facebook Groups dedicated to nomads, especially for women. I remember a girl posted about how she felt lonely and tired of the dating apps and decided to write a list, manifesting her dream man. This is the part that I specifically recall: “I wrote what I could bring to the table. I wrote what I wanted in a man. And then I washed my hands and said, ‘Universe, I leave it to you!’”

The girl continued on that a week later, in Lisbon, she walked into a bar, met a handsome man, and they’d been together for three years since. “So ladies, manifest your dream man!”

I rolled my eyes. This blonde, Barbie in real life woman—of course it worked out for her. But I secretly always wanted to try it. Three years after reading that damn post, I was stuck in a subway station in New York, one of my favorite cities, but my life wasn’t going anywhere near what I had hoped for. Not professionally or personally. So I thought, well, I’m stuck in the subway, might as well write this manifest idea down.

I wanted someone I could talk to—that I would be excited to talk to. I rarely went out on dates, partly because of the insecurities brought on by unsolicited comments and advice from relatives about my physical appeal. It’s a real mind fuck. Another reason is that while I’m an extrovert, when it came down to it, no guy really grabbed my interest to the point where, as many describe it, I had “butterflies in my stomach.”

Whenever a date texted me, I would be annoyed. “What do they want from me now?” I’d groan and my roommate would point out that if I felt that way, the guy wasn’t worth my time or theirs. I was supposed to look forward to speaking and texting with them. I never had that, so I was curious see if this fucking manifest list could bring that.

I wrote a few other things in there about personality and priorities. Then I thought, “Fuck it, if it’s a manifest list, what’s it going to hurt?” I added what I really wanted: An EU Schengen passport. For a U.S. passport, you get 90 days visa free in the EU Schengen parts (i.e. France, Germany, Italy, Greece). But then you have to be out of the EU Schengen parts for 180 days before you can re-enter. I go to Europe often and mostly to Schengen countries, so I’m tired of having to do the damn math, I wanted to be able to go in and out, however long I please. And I wanted him to be hot, like stupid hot.

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings around my own hotness level. I have naturally long eyelashes, I’m tall, but I’ve had weight issues. I was a 90s kid and aughts teen, which means there was no such thing as body positivity. Family members and society told me that if I lost weight, I would be gorgeous and could get any man I wanted. That is obviously not true, but tell that to a girl going through puberty to well into her twenties; it messes with your self-esteem and worth a lot.

It didn’t matter that I was working hard on my grades to get into my dream school. It didn’t matter that I wanted to live abroad (which I eventually did, numerous times). It mattered how I looked like. There’s definitely lasting damage I’m sure many others can relate to. But the point is, this is what led me to think, if this is a manifest list, let’s make the man of my dreams so fucking hot, you drool.

Now, of course beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And looks are definitely not everything. Trust me, I know, but again, I was thinking, This shit doesn’t actually work, so let’s have some fun.

A couple weeks later, I decided to try out a few upcoming conferences in marketing and podcasting, which are my two main concentrations in the States, England, and Spain. I went to a marketing conference in Spain. The sessions were split into two rooms and I began in one of them, taking notes. When the next talk started, about breaking into the Chinese market, I thought, “Well, that’s not my market,” so I decided to sneak out and go to the next room.

In the next room, the discussion was about influencer marketing and the speaker was a man the gods must have carved out of hot marble. Tattooed, accent I couldn’t quite place, charming, and vulnerable enough to share that this was his first time presenting for the company and at this conference, so he was nervous. We all were left drooling and couldn’t take our eyes off him—I mean, his presentation. The talk after his was about Meta ads, which are still a damn mystery to me. I needed to stay but he was taking off.

I legitimately had a question for him, so I quickly went up to him and said I wanted to ask him something but had to stay for the next talk. He said, “I’ll wait for you in the back.” Be still my beating heart! He would wait for me. I was giddy. Of course, several others, mostly women, were surrounding him as the next speaker prepared.

After the Meta ads talk, I went to the back and sure enough, Hottie McHottie was there, waiting for me patiently. He looked up from his phone and smiled at me. I thanked him for waiting and asked my question. He had some good points and case studies to help. “Email me and I’ll be sure to send you the case studies.” He gave me his work email.

Then we chatted for a bit. He was Greek and German but lived in Spain now. He’d studied in Chicago, where I’m from, and loved Michael Jordan. So I told him a story about my three degrees of separation from Jordan (most people from Chicago will have at least one story; I have multiple). He loved it and I said, “I have more but we still have the conference to go to.” If we were to meet up again, I had to have something else to talk about, like my stories with Michael Jordan. I thanked him for his time.

We chatted for a good 45 minutes, and it was easy. I was myself, I learned about his background, and I really enjoyed my time with him. I noticed he left the conference after our talk and emailed him soon after the next session ended. The next morning, he replied and shared the case studies but also asked how the rest of the conference went since he had to leave early.

It suddenly hit me: He was easy to talk to, I looked forward to hearing from him, he had not one but two EU Schengen passports, and he was the hottest man I had seen in person. Holy shit. Did the manifest list work?! No, it couldn’t be! But he also asked me a question that would seemingly require me to answer back.

I needed some perspective. I shared what had occurred to a straight couple I’m friends with, because I wanted a straight man’s perspective. He said, “You already know the answer. If it was just business, he wouldn’t ask a follow-up question.” I had a photo from Hottie’s presentation so I shared it with them and even the guy friend said, “Is that a Greek God?!” But I thought, no, this is too good to be true. This doesn’t happen to someone like me! He wants to sell me on his business or he was just being nice.

The couple encouraged me to reply right away since it was Friday and in Europe, if you hit the weekend, they won’t check their work email until Monday and by then, I would be in England for the next conference. Good point, but I was so nervous! I ended up writing him back Friday in the late afternoon and sure enough, by mid-morning on Monday, he replied, hoping I enjoyed my time in Spain. By then, I’d made it to England. Meanwhile, I did of course check for him on social media, only finding him on LinkedIn, where he accepted my request to connect. He “hearted” my recap, which I was giddy about but then I noticed, he hearted pretty much everyone’s content. Damn it.

While in England, I was staying with a friend. I told her the story and she said it was a good move that I didn’t ask him out right away. Later, I had to go do some analytics for social media for clients. Since I had their platforms up, I decided, well why not go for a bit of a dig? I tried different variations of his name. Hot McHottie. Hottie McHottie. Hottie McHottie Germany and Greece, etc.

I already knew about LinkedIn, but Instagram, nothing. X/Twitter, nothing, TikTok, nothing, on and on and on. Finally, on Facebook, there was a photo of a man and woman in a black and white photo, hugging. The woman was tagged, and her profile wasn’t private. She was married with a daughter, from Holland, and had moved to Spain with her husband, who was wearing sleeves. I kept digging because there was something about this man, even though I could only see his profile.

Finally, I find a photo of her and her husband with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his muscles and tattoos, holding a little girl, their daughter.

I shared the photo with my friend, who looked at it, and her face fell. “Maybe it’s his sister.”

It wasn’t his sister. Oddly, I felt vindicated. I knew manifesting was bullshit.

Listen, he did nothing wrong. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but he wasn’t overtly flirting. I think he was just being nice, maybe making business connections with his email correspondence. He was easy to talk to, and very easy on the eyes. Of course he was taken!

It’s been a couple of years since that time. Sometimes I’m tempted to write a new list, but I also have a theory that’s proving true for me: The secret to success isn’t about manifesting. It’s about doing. I got into the college I wanted by working hard. I lost weight because I had to and wanted to; there was no manifesting that shit. Hottie was taken, but I’m proud that I wasn’t afraid to talk to him. He wasn’t the man of my dreams, and that’s okay. I need to work on my own confidence, worth, and seeing who’s out there. Maybe that’s how I will find a partner. Manifesting may be bullshit, but trying my best isn’t.

Editor’s note: A sentence has been changed post-publication.

Tara Jabbari is a seasoned producer and coordinator, creating meaningful professional connections that turn ideas into reality. She works with creatives, businesses, & organizations to become recognized experts and excels at creating content that educates and entertains, from documentaries to podcasting to social media. She started Safe Passages on Substack about travel and digital wellness. She also has The Recomp Journey Substack about fitness and nutrition. 95% of her work is remote, so she can continue to live and work from wherever she wants. #SorryNotSorry