There are words we use now, words that did not exist in quite the same way before. Red flags. Green flags. Beige flags. A taxonomy of warning and permission. This is how we talk about relationships: through colors, through signals, through signs we must read carefully or risk missing something crucial.

The red flags are obvious, or at least they should be. The anger that sharpens too quickly. The apology that never comes. The way someone makes you feel like less, makes you doubt your own memory, your own worth. These are the things that tell you to leave, though sometimes people stay anyway, as if watching a storm roll in and refusing to move.

The green flags, though, are quieter. Less about alarms and more about presence, about how someone holds space. The way they listen without waiting for their turn to speak. The steadiness of their hand on the wheel when things get hard. A kind of patience that does not need immediate resolution, that allows for discomfort, that knows real intimacy is built in increments.

There is a kind of person who has done the work. You can tell because they do not flinch at honesty, do not see vulnerability as a thing to exploit. They know how to be accountable, not just in the way they say “I’m sorry,” but in how they make sure they do not have to say it too often. They set boundaries without turning them into walls. They do not need to win every argument. They do not take their bad day out on you.

To be this person—to be, as they say, a “walking green flag”—is not about performance. It is not about being perfect. It is about having looked inward long enough to understand what you bring to the table, both the good and the difficult. It is about understanding your own capacity for harm and choosing, every day, not to lean into it.
People think of emotional safety as softness, as something passive. It is not. It is a discipline, a kind of strength. It is knowing when to speak and when to listen. It is knowing how to be present without needing to control. It is the opposite of impulsiveness, of reactivity. It is the ability to let things unfold without forcing them.
The people who get this, who really get this, are not always the ones who announce it. They are not the ones making grand declarations about how good they are. They just show up, again and again, in ways that feel steady, in ways that make you breathe easier.

And so this is what it comes down to. Not just avoiding the wrong things, but choosing the right ones. Not just spotting the red flags, but knowing how to embody the green ones.
Not just looking for love, but learning how to hold it once you have it.