My first real job interview was at a telecom. Back then that meant stability, a salary you could plan around, the kind of job your parents would be proud to mention.

I aced the tests. Got into the live interview. The recruiter was polished, using all the right corporate language, and I remember thinking I could see through it. (If I had that same conversation today I'm sure I'd realize how much I missed.)

They split their customer success people into two roles. Hunters, who found new clients. Farmers, who maintained existing ones. She told me she saw me as a perfect fit for the hunters.

My gut reaction was immediate. I'm an introvert who was scared of people, and she wanted me knocking on doors for a living. I didn't say any of this but I stopped trying to land the job.

When we got to compensation I told her I'd need to factor in the cost of petrol because their office was out of the way. She smiled and said I'd get a company car.

And then, out loud, without thinking, I said: "Oh, so you're looking for a traveling salesman."

She dropped her head. To this day I don't know if she was disappointed in herself for misreading me, or disappointed in me for saying the quiet part out loud instead of keeping up the game. Either way, I knew that comment ended it.

Years later, almost the same thing happened at a bank. I'd been consulting there. My findings got the digital director fired and they asked if I wanted the role. Last round, me and one other candidate. The interviewer told me the position required diplomacy, people skills, a certain kind of patience. Then she asked if I'd describe myself as more of a people person or more of a tech person. She mentioned the other candidate seemed stronger on the people side.

I said tech. Knowing full well it would cost me the job.

For years, I told myself I'd sabotaged two good opportunities (and more opportunities in between). Something in me was broken and I kept getting close and then blowing it up.

But looking back, I don't think that's what happened.

In both interviews, my gut saw what the job actually was before my head could talk me into wanting it. The telecom was a traveling sales role dressed in corporate language. The bank was a political position inside an institution I didn't respect. My mouth said no before I could override it.

I was refusing things that weren't mine and calling it a character flaw.

The question I avoided for a long time was: if I keep refusing what's offered, what am I actually saying yes to?

The answer, for years, was nothing. Or rather, nothing alone. Every business idea I pursued was a partnership. Every partnership stalled, or never launched, or quietly died while I waited for the other person to move first. I was always looking for someone to share the risk with. Someone to be the face, the one who goes first, the one who takes the call if it doesn't work.

Because if it fails and there's someone else involved, the failure is distributed. If it fails and it's just me, then it's just me.

A friend saw this before I did. He was a psychologist, and he once called me an introverted extrovert. I thought he was wrong. I liked being alone. I avoided new people. But he was more precise than I gave him credit for. I was afraid of being seen before I felt ready to be seen. New people were dangerous because they hadn't yet agreed to the version of me I was performing. They might see through it. Once I got comfortable with someone, I'd open up completely. The fear was always about exposure.

mu.hr is the first thing I've done entirely alone. No partner to wait for, no co-founder to blame if it stalls. Just me and the work.

The writing and the sessions feel natural. The uncomfortable part is that there's nowhere to hide. If it works, I did it. If it doesn't, I did that too.

But there's something I didn't expect. I don't doubt it. I'm not performing confidence about this the way I did about the partnerships, the job applications, the things I talked myself out of. I just know it's the right room.

Maybe that's what the gut was protecting all along. Every job I turned down, every opportunity I blew up, was one that would have been just comfortable enough to stop me from finding this.