I get it: not all guys are big texters. That’s fiiiine, but if we went from talking all day, every day, to bare minimums/not at all, that excuse is not going to fly.
Perhaps he’s trying to spare my feelings. Perhaps he’s trying to slowly stop texting me because me having to take the hint that he’s no longer interested is less painful than him being honest and admitting that he no longer has feelings for me. In reality, he’s not sparing my feelings at all. In fact, what he’s doing is worse. He’s messing with them. He’s playing with them. He’s destroying them. He’s being a coward. There is nothing worse than sitting there wondering what went wrong. The empty feeling I get when I check my phone in hopes of seeing a message from him, but being met with nothing but my screen saver.
The feeling of hope that is immediately replaced with a stab of disappointment when my phone vibrates, and it’s not him.
It’s easier to deal with when I’m busy. I enjoy keeping myself busy to avoid the feeling of sadness that has now replaced my feelings towards him. But when I’m not busy, I’m a mess. I overthink everything. I read through our old messages looking for a sign. Did he send me a message that could have been a warning that he’s not interested, and I somehow missed it? I analyze messages sent to him, trying to decide if it was something I said. Did I say something that was too honest? Should I not have told him how I feel about him? Is my kindness and interest coming off as desperate? I think about the last time I saw him. He acted normal. He smiled that cute smile of his. He held me. He kissed me. It was comfortable. It felt right. We were us. What could it have been?
I assume the worst. He’s met someone else. Someone funnier than me. Someone more interesting than me. Someone more beautiful than me. Someone who has made him forget me.
I begin to criticize myself. My self-esteem is now more damaged than it was when the last guy did this same exact thing. I question my worth. I worry that there is something wrong with me. Deep down, I used to wonder if he was too good for me. I have him on a pedestal because he’s so sweet, charming, handsome, and perfect for me. I suppressed these feelings because I knew that I must be doing something right if he were so interested in me to begin with. I thought so highly of him.
I loved the things he considered flaws in himself because they made him who he was, the person I was falling for.
Maybe he didn’t see my flaws in the same way. Maybe he finally realized that he was too good for me. That he can do better. I wonder if I’m not pretty enough. I don’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning. Maybe I should. Should I change my hair? Does he dislike my style? Is it because I don’t have the biggest curves in the world? Is it because I don’t put out easily enough? Maybe he’s found someone who better meets his expectations for a girlfriend.
He’s driving me crazy right now. I’m fully aware that I’m overthinking and overanalyzing, but I recognize this behavior from past failed relationships and don’t want to feel that kind of hurt again, even though I know it’s inevitable. I start to put up walls to protect my heart. I begin to think less of him. It’s good that he’s being taken down from the pedestal I’ve put him on, but I didn’t want to go from thinking of him as my prince charming to just another asshole who messed with my heart.
I begin to believe that all guys will do this. He’s been added to the list of guys who have abandoned me without reason. I begin believe that all men will leave unexpectedly and without reason. I begin to believe that I’ll always have my heart broken. I begin to believe that I will never find love.
I shut down. I can’t sleep because I can’t stop myself from constantly checking my phone. I won’t text him. I don’t want him to be aware of the desperate pain he’s causing me. I don’t want him to know how much he means to me. I don’t want him to know that I’m crying over him. I don’t want him to pity me. I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic. I don’t want to be hurt. I just want him. I silence my phone and cry myself to sleep. I sleep as long as I can, hoping for something in the morning.
I awake to disappointment, a feeling that I’m becoming more and more familiar with. I go about my day with a fake smile and faded hope. The disappointment lasts a long time until it fades to just being numb. And that’s how we end. I’ll be okay someday. But he hurt me in a tremendous way that he’ll never even know about. That’s the worst part? He is blissfully unaware of how much suffering he has caused.
He’ll cause this same devastating agony over and over because no one ever tells him how badly it hurts. I’ll avoid relationships for a long time because dating means taking a chance of this happening again. I can’t be vulnerable. I can’t let this happen again. But someday, I take a chance on someone. And the vicious cycle continues.
Silence can be deafening. Silence hurts even more than speaking the hard truth.