The Humiliating Act of Falling In Love

“I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me!” I’m wailing, curled up in a ball next to a pound and a half of fresh ceviche. We had different ideas of how tonight would go.

Frances and I have been dating for almost a year and a half. A month ago, she met my dad. I actually thought I might marry this person (humiliating.)

“Why did you meet my dad?” I choke out between sobs. She wanted to “see how it felt.” As if meeting my 75-year-old Republican father would make her like me…more? Shockingly, it had the opposite effect.

Falling in love with Frances was a risk and I knew it. Not just in the way that falling in love is always a risk, but because I knew Frances was “emotionally unavailable”—the new way we all say we’re too traumatized to date right now. She’d told me as much on our third date. It felt a little too soon to be having the “what are we” convo let alone the “what are we never going to be” convo. So I backed off. I wasn’t dumb enough to chase after someone who wasn’t showing strong interest. But the more I backed off, the more she leaned in, etc. A 20-something life coach on TikTok says that’s called avoidant attachment style.

On a lot of levels, I, too, was ~emotionally unavailable~. I’d gotten out of a four-year relationship the summer before, the fallout of which prompted me to have a “menty b” (cute for “mental breakdown”). I had a hard time imagining ever being touched again let alone falling in love. But I really liked Frances. And the idea of falling in love was exciting, even if it was with someone completely covered in red flags.

Despite her crippling fear of intimacy, Frances continued to push our relationship forward, introducing me to her friends first, asking me to sleep over “just to cuddle” (so gay), suggesting we do more “girlfriend-y things” (if someone in their mid-thirties says this—RUN). But when it came to talking about a future, she’d freak out. Even planning a night away that she’d suggested made her panic and back out. My confidence plummeted but I ignored it because my confidence was always randomly plummeting.

“I’m falling in love with someone who isn’t in love with me,” I wrote in my journal. “But I don’t care because it’s FUN!”

Cut to almost a year and a half of dating and we still haven’t said “I love you.” I know, weird! But I, again, have trust issues and didn’t want to say it to someone who would only say it back out of politeness. And at that point I was just trying to enjoy my time with her versus constantly obsessing about where it was going (because in my gut I knew it was going nowhere). Falling in love was risky enough, saying it felt like a bridge too far.

We hosted a 4th of July party with our friends. I’m so happy blissfully drinking Loverboys in the sun and shoving hot dogs down my gullet. We spend the next day together lying by the pool. She seems distant and I don’t know why. She usually has no problem telling me how she feels but today she keeps it to herself. She’s irritated and short with me. I pretend I don’t see it.

She’s “sick” the following week. She stops texting me as much. Is my girlfriend of a year and a half ghosting me? My therapist reassures me I’m being paranoid. “There’s no evidence your girlfriend is breaking up with you. She’ll come over tonight and you’ll see that things are fine.” But things were very much not fine.

She doesn’t kiss me when she walks in the door. Usually I ask how she is, she kisses me and says “better now.” But today seeing me makes her feel worse. Her energy is frenetic, like it was on the first few minutes of our first date. “We need to talk,” she blurts out. I instantly know what’s about to happen. Time starts to slow down, like I’m moving through a dream, not entirely in control of my body. I had barely any time to brace myself—no courtesy “I’ve been thinking…” text—it was all impact. And I was fully crushed into the pavement.

Her 20-second prepared speech was written completely in therapese, peppered with things like “I need to lean into the anxiety” and “I have nothing but respect for our relationship.” What does that mean??? I envision a shrine in her bedroom covered in photos of us that she’ll keep forever, laying down offerings to pay her respects to our relationship. “I’m sorry,” she keeps saying over and over, in the same tone a hostess would when telling you your table’s not ready yet. “Please stop saying that,” I beg.

She reiterates how she “needs space right now.” Does she think I want to be close??? She can’t see me the next day when I pick up my things from her place. I feel like a burglar as I creep through the empty apartment, making sure I don’t leave any strap-ons or overpriced skincare products behind. It's hard to say goodbye to her dog. I know I’m never going to see him or this dyke, who’s been a big piece of my world the past year-plus, again.

Now you might be thinking, “Ummm, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen for the avoidant lesbian who clearly wasn’t falling nor would ever fall in love with you?” But, to quote poet laureate Chappell Roan, you’re not fun!!!!! Yes, it’s deeply embarrassing to be sooo into someone who literally never wants to see your face again, but I loved every single stupid second of that make-believe relationship.

I love walking her dog to get coffee every morning. I loved hearing her sing her stupid songs about her dog. I loved looking through my photo album dedicated entirely to her and her dog. I guess, looking back, I mostly loved her dog.

It was freeing and exhilarating to fall in love again, especially at a time I was feeling particularly dead inside. It reminded me how much life is still left to be lived and feelings to be felt (even the horrible ones). And while getting dumped made my brat summer deeply depressing, I’d rather be the one who feels everything than nothing at all.