It all started in the wake of two absences. I had just gotten out of a long, four-year relationship that left me with a deep wound: the feeling that men don't see me as the woman you build a future with, but merely as a stepping stone for learning. He, on the other hand, had broken up just two months prior with one of my best friends. He was broken, unstable, sad. And I, carrying an unconscious childhood pattern of nurturing sad boys to make myself feel important, offered my listening ear and solidarity.
The first crack appeared when he saw a picture of me with his ex (my friend) at my birthday party. The reality check hit him, and his reaction was childish: he said he felt "weird," ghosted me, and blocked me. A month later, full of regret, he came back. I stood my ground, told him my friendship with her wouldn't change, and he assured me he was fine to move forward. We reconnected.
In January, right after a trip, his efforts intensified overwhelmingly. He flooded me with attention, showed an immense amount of interest, spoke openly about a serious relationship, and made future plans very quickly. We knew the risks and the distance (we lived in different cities), but the chemistry and mutual loneliness acted as fuel, and I surrendered to that projection of safety.
In February, we reached our peak. We saw each other, had our dates, and slept together. He was the first man with whom I shared my intimacy on such a deep level. I was completely in love, addicted to that affection and that urgency. I planned to give myself to him completely and really wanted him to be my first time with penetration as well, so I could finally feel safe.
But the price of his instability came due around late April, right after he started therapy. He abruptly pulled back, claiming he "was understanding things about himself, that he was still attracted to me, but that he wasn't in the right place for a relationship," and proposed we just be friends. Desperate at the thought of losing him, I accepted this friendship agreement, but I remained in a position of hidden waiting.
In an attempt to reverse the situation and still have my first time with him, I booked a trip to his city over a holiday. I proposed that we hook up one more time, told him the intimate weight that held for me, and he accepted the bonus of having me there.
The turning point happened when fate changed the course of things: my friend who was supposed to host me in his city had an unexpected issue and could no longer have me over. When I let him know the trip wouldn't happen, he changed. He started treating me with distance and indifference.
Exhausted and filled with anxiety, I confronted him directly, asking if he still wanted to be with me. That was when the cruel contradiction and final discard came: the guy who previously said his withdrawal was due to internal issues and not a lack of attraction changed his tune, categorically stating he no longer desired to be with me and only saw me as a friend. He admitted he had been irresponsible, confessed he shouldn't have dragged me into his confusion, but said he had only realized this just then.
In that exact moment, I drew my line: I said that if he only wanted friendship and I wanted something more, we would no longer speak. Since early May, my life has turned into a daily mourning. Emotional exhaustion has given me terribly restless nights. Loneliness and the pain of rejection made me break no-contact a few time, sending job openings, book reviews on Discord, and videos on Instagram, begging for a shred of attention of him. And what I received in return was absolute silence. A cowardly ghosting disguised as "we ended on good terms."
It hurts to accept that I was used as emotional support (a rebound) by someone who discarded me the moment he felt stabilized, employed, and treated in therapy.
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