I missed him deeply during our no-contact phase. It had been over four weeks since we last exchanged messages. As his birthday on July 18th approached, I found myself carefully crafting a birthday message, each word feeling like a step on broken glass.
Two weeks before his birthday, while I was at my sewing class on a lazy Sunday afternoon, my phone buzzed. It suggested the message might be from him. Whenever we decided to end things, I would delete his number, block his social media accounts, and then unblock him once my anger subsided. Seeing his name felt like an electric shock coursing through my body, rendering me speechless and numb, despite the sewing teacher talking to me.
The text was blatantly sexual. He was thinking of my body. It should have insulted me because our last fight ended with me demanding he not contact me again if all he wanted was sex. He had promised to respect my wishes, yet here we were. I felt a tug-of-war within myself: the desire for a meaningful relationship clashed with my high libido and physical attraction to him.
Impulsively, I responded favorably, offering what he wanted. We met after my class, reigniting our usual routine. His apartment door was unlocked; I slipped into his bed where he lay naked. Our reunion was passionate and intense. I pleased him orally, and he expressed surprise at climaxing from just that. We cuddled briefly, catching up before I left, with a promise to meet again soon.
This marked the start of the most toxic phase of our 18-month situationship. I regret reopening that door, as he deepened my hurt with his actions and words. We planned a date for his birthday, but his inability to commit led to another fallout. When I asked why he reached out despite my conditions, he admitted he wanted fun with no strings attached. His honesty revealed his disregard for my needs.
When I accused him of using people, he claimed he wanted more than sex—a genuine friendship that could lead to something more. It was a masterclass in manipulation. He dangled the possibility of a future relationship, knowing I was emotionally attached but uncomfortable with just being friends with benefits. This manipulation led to the worst mental and physical pain I had experienced. My emotions swung from extreme highs to deep lows, affecting my health and well-being. I stopped enjoying the things I loved and struggled to maintain my usual routine.
Our official end came in February this year, when I refused his request to stay friends. This toxic journey left me in chaos, but it’s a story for another time. I’ll share more about this ongoing healing process in future articles.
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