I’ve reached an odd place in my dating life: being told someone doesn’t want to see me anymore is starting to sound considerate.
This is the third man this year who has simply stopped answering my texts and calls. There wasn’t a breakup conversation. There wasn’t even an awkward attempt at one. We were dating, and then I was trying to reach someone who no longer responded.
These weren’t connections that ended after one drink or a couple of uncertain dates. We’d spent multiple weeks seeing each other regularly. There were sleepovers, nights in, and enough time together for me to believe we were two adults pursuing a relationship.
We also had the conversations people are supposed to have when they want to know where they stand. We talked about what we were doing. Then we kept dating. I took that continuation to mean the conversation had left us on roughly the same page.
Nothing obvious happened before the silence. No disagreement I could point to, no uncomfortable exchange that seemed to change things, no big event that explained a sudden ending. As far as I could tell, things were moving along.
That’s what makes it so difficult to put down. I don’t have an ending to remember. I have the last stretch when everything seemed ordinary, followed by unanswered attempts to get in touch.
If someone broke up with me, I might at least learn something. Maybe I’d understand what hadn’t worked, or what I could do differently another time. I know a breakup wouldn’t necessarily come with an explanation that satisfied me. But it would tell me that the relationship was over without making me establish that fact through silence.
After the third time, I’m tired of having to revisit my own version of events. The dates happened. The conversations happened. I didn’t invent the fact that we kept seeing each other afterward.
I’m not asking any of these men to continue a relationship they don’t want. I would just like one of them to say he doesn’t want it. At this point, a reply telling me it’s over would be a relief.
