I had this short, bright little romance recently — the kind that comes in like warm light through a window and makes you think, “Huh. Maybe this could actually become something.”
He told me early on that he could see men hadn’t been kind to me. He said it with this soft confidence that made me feel understood in a way I wasn’t expecting. And when someone tells you they see you — not the surface you show the world, but the history behind your softness — it’s hard not to let your guard relax just a little.
And because of that, I did something rare for me:
I eased my boundaries.
Not because I needed him — I don’t. I’ve built a peaceful, balanced life on my own. My boundaries exist to protect that peace, to protect the version of me I worked so hard to grow into. But he felt like someone I could let in without chaos. Someone who had the emotional steadiness I thought I’d finally found.
For a moment, it felt like we were building something real.
Something with potential.
Something worth leaning into.
But then he went back home to Arizona.
And the attention that once felt natural and steady just… thinned out. Faded. Shifted into silence that made no sense based on the connection we had before.
I wasn’t heartbroken — please.
But I was disappointed in that “Really? This again?” kind of way.
Especially from someone who claimed to understand the patterns that had hurt me before.
And here’s where it got confusing: when I tried to talk to him about it — calmly, honestly, like an actual adult — he bolted. Like the moment I expressed a real feeling, he panicked. Suddenly I was “unrealistic,” even though all I asked for was clarity and consistency. Nothing dramatic. Nothing heavy. Just communication.
What stung wasn’t losing him.
It was realizing he knew exactly what my biggest boundaries were…
and crossed them anyway.
Not out of malice, but because he needed what those boundaries offered — the comfort, the openness, the steadiness — without considering the emotional aftermath it would leave for me when he pulled away.
I don’t think he meant to be careless.
I think he simply wasn’t capable of showing up in the way he acted like he could.
And that’s okay.
People reveal themselves one way or another.
Sometimes it takes a little distance — or a state line — for the picture to get clear.
And who knows… maybe he’ll see this from Arizona someday.
Maybe he’ll recognize himself in these words.
Not to feel guilty — but to understand.
Because I wasn’t asking for too much.
I was asking for exactly what I give: care, sincerity, consistency, presence.
And I’m still open to love.
Still hopeful.
Still steady in who I am and what I deserve.
The right person will meet me there — and won’t disappear when the plane lands.
SDS – Lesson learned
