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A free live conversation about the patterns that keep us from lasting love, and what changes when we finally see them.
Most of us were never taught how to choose someone. We were taught how to fall.
I spent fifteen years writing about love and couldn’t find one that lasted. When I finally read it all back in order, I found the pattern that had been running underneath the whole time. Two weeks after I finished the book I met my girlfriend, and we’ve been together almost two years now.
On September 27 I want to walk you through what I found, and help you go looking for yours.
Most of us were never taught how to choose a partner. We were taught how to fall.
So we learned to trust the feeling. The racing heart. The not eating. The checking the phone. The nights that were so high they made everything else look grey. We called that love, because it was the biggest feeling in the room, and nothing had ever taught us to call it anything else.
I chased that feeling for most of my adult life. I ended relationships that had every reason to work because they felt flat, and I stayed years too long in the ones that hurt because the highs were so high I couldn’t imagine anything better existing. The whole time I thought I was being romantic. I thought wanting a love that big was proof I believed in it more than everybody else did.
Maybe some of that sounds familiar. Most people I talk to about this have their own version of it, and usually they can’t quite name it either. They just know the ending keeps arriving and it keeps looking the same.
I wrote all of mine down. Fifteen years of journals and poems, most of them at two in the morning when I had nowhere else to put it. And when I sat down to write Crazy Love, I read every page of it back in order and finally saw the thing I could never see from inside it. What I’d been navigating by wasn’t love. It was activation. My body learned it early, before I had any say in the matter, and it had been pointing me at the same person in a different body ever since.
I don’t think that’s rare. I think a lot of us are running on something we picked up before we were old enough to know it was happening, and then spending our adult lives quietly wondering why the same thing keeps happening.
Seeing it didn’t fix anything on its own. But it gave me something to work with, and I started making different choices about who I said yes to and what I was willing to sit with when the intensity wasn’t there.
Two weeks after I finished writing the book, I met my girlfriend. We’ve been together almost two years now. It’s the most secure relationship I’ve ever been in and it’s a lot quieter than anything I chased in my twenties. For a while the quiet scared me, honestly, because I’d spent so long reading calm as absence.
I’m not telling you that so you’ll expect the same timeline. That would be a strange thing to promise and I’d be lying if I did. Your pattern got set somewhere else, by something else, and it’s pointing you somewhere I couldn’t guess at from here.
But it can move. That’s the part I want you to have. And it can’t move while you can’t see it.
That’s what the 27th is for.
With love,
Adam.
Sixty minutes, and it’s built as one conversation rather than a list of tips. Then thirty minutes where the floor is yours.
Love has a physical feeling to it, in your chest and your stomach and your sleep, and yours got calibrated a long time ago by something you probably didn’t choose and can’t fully remember. We’ll look at where that happened, what it’s been steering you toward since, and why the feeling you trust the most might be the least reliable thing you’ve got. Mine was set on intensity. Took me fifteen years to notice.
There’s a way of dating that runs on activation, which is the chase and the uncertainty and the anxiety we’ve all been taught to call chemistry. And there’s a way that runs on safety. They feel completely different in the body and most of us have only ever practiced one of them. Learning to tell them apart while you’re actually sitting across from someone is probably the most useful thing in this whole conversation. It’s the thing that changed the most for me.
Naming it isn’t really the hard part. Most of us can name ours if we sit still for ten minutes. The hard part is deciding to stop, which is a completely separate thing and usually costs you something. We’ll talk about what that decision actually asks of you, and why it so rarely happens by accident.
Two questions almost nobody answers before they start. Not a list of traits you want. Real intention, the kind that changes who you say yes to and who you let go of a lot sooner. This is the most practical part of the night. When I finally got honest about my own two answers, the whole field of people I was even looking at changed.
Then we open the floor for thirty minutes and it’s yours. Bring the specific thing you’re stuck in. That’s usually where it gets good.
You don’t need to be single for this, by the way. Some of the people who need this conversation the most are already in the relationship they’re trying to figure out how to stay in.
Adam Roa is a poet, speaker, and author whose work centers on love, vulnerability, and the search for what is real. His spoken word piece You Are Who You Have Been Looking For became one of the most watched live poetry performances ever recorded, reaching more than 250 million people. He has spoken at TEDx, the Oslo Freedom Forum, and Mindvalley.
His debut book, Crazy Love, is a decade and a half of journal entries and poetry written with the belief that nobody would ever read them. It came out in August 2026.
He wrote most of it single, through breakups, through relationships he almost made and almost ruined, and through the long road back to himself. Two weeks after he finished writing it he met his girlfriend, and they’ve been together almost two years.
He isn’t teaching from the far side of a solved problem and he’ll say so on the night. What he has is fifteen years of his own handwriting showing how one pattern got made, got noticed, and finally got changed.
All of this came out of Crazy Love, my book of poetry and journal entries covering fifteen years of falling in and out of love. It’s the raw material. The event is what I could see once I’d read it all back.
It also stops right before the part I most want to talk about. The book takes you through the fifteen years and leaves off at the healing, so what came after it, and what I actually did differently, isn’t in there.
If you’ve got a copy, or you want to pick one up before the 27th, it’ll give you a feel for the territory and you might recognize yourself somewhere in it. But it’s not required and nothing on the night depends on it. Come as you are.
Crazy Love is here if you want it.A real conversation, not a prerecorded webinar.
60 minutes teaching, 30 minutes live Q&A.
Nothing’s being sold at the event or at the end.
Sent to every registrant, Q&A included.
Crazy Love adds context, but it is not required.
Camera optional. You can type in chat if you prefer.
I spent a long time believing the size of the feeling was the measure of the love. It cost me years, and it cost some people who deserved a better version of me than the one who believed it.
I don’t think that makes me unusual. I think most of us got handed the same compass and nobody ever mentioned it was broken. So this isn’t me teaching down at anyone. It’s me telling you what I found in my own handwriting, and what became possible once I’d found it.
It’s free, there’s nothing to buy, and I’d just like to have this conversation with as many of you as want to be in it.
If something in you is a yes, I’d love to see you there.
Free, live, and online.
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