Dear Sophie:

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and for taking the time to reflect on everything. It’s clear you’re approaching this situation with care and thoughtfulness, trying to make sense of a complex dynamic while being mindful of broader discussions about autism and personality disorders.

Your openness and willingness to learn more about the situation are commendable. Please take your time as you reflect and work through it all. There’s no rush in making sense of complex emotions.

Sending you support as you navigate this. 💙

anita

Dear Mei:

In your initial post, you wrote:

“I’m still trying to make sense of everything—my role in the dynamics, the decisions I made, and what this experience is trying to teach me.”-

I would like to help you make sense of what happened—your role in the dynamics, his role, and the broader lessons this experience may hold. I will also address the question you asked at the end of your second post.

To do this, I will carefully reread what you’ve shared, reference your own words, and offer my thoughts—all with the hope of contributing to the understanding and clarity you seek.

“At seventeen, I had to support myself financially, manage my household, and keep up with a brutal academic schedule.”-

You didn’t wait for others to take care of you—you stepped up and managed everything on your own. At 17, you took on a leadership role in your own life, making difficult decisions and taking charge of your future with initiative, responsibility, and strength.

Fast forward about seven years:

“I asked him to be my boyfriend—I was so excited. I told everyone, even made a silly list of date ideas. I wanted to include him in every part of my life.”-

You took on a leadership role in the relationship. Instead of waiting for him to ask, you made the first move, showing confidence and decisiveness. You actively planned the time together—making a list of date ideas demonstrates enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, and a desire to create meaningful experiences. Your proactive approach shaped the relationship dynamic, ensuring that effort, creativity, and connection were present—at least on your side.

“As our relationship progressed, I asked him to move out of the apartment he was still sharing with his ex.”—A reasonable request, in line with your leadership role.

“I planned dates and getaways, bought him little gifts.”—A leader.

“I told him I didn’t want to pressure him and was open to finding different solutions.”—A collaborative leader.

“The meeting went well—at first—but once again, I was the only one talking about solutions.”—A proactive leader.

“In the beginning, intimacy was mutual, but after around the three-month mark, I found myself being the one who almost always initiated it.”—The initiating leader.

“I tried to find different compromises, which he would agree to during conversations, but when the moment came, he would usually pull back.”-

You took on the leadership role in problem-solving, emotional engagement, and intimacy discussions. You initiated compromise—actively seeking solutions and adjustments to make the relationship work. You guided conversations—your ex agreed to compromises in discussions, but you were the one bringing up the concerns and trying to find resolutions.

He was passive rather than proactive—agreeing in words but not following through suggests avoidance, whereas you took the initiative to address challenges head-on.

Your leadership stemmed from wanting a deeper connection and trying to sustain the relationship, but his withdrawal made it one-sided, leading to frustration and emotional exhaustion.

It seems, Mei, that there was a fundamental clash between your leadership role and your ex’s avoidant attachment tendencies. You naturally took initiative, leading the relationship in planning, emotional connection, and problem-solving. Your ex, however, withdrew in moments that required engagement, avoiding discussions about intimacy and struggles rather than addressing them.

This imbalance in effort may have made you feel alone in the relationship, while he may have felt pressured. People with avoidant attachment styles often feel overwhelmed by emotional closeness and struggle to maintain intimacy in a long-term relationship.
Your desire for connection, consistency, and physical affection clashed with his tendency to retreat, leading to frustration on both sides.

His statement—”When I have to chase, I want intimacy, but when I’m in a relationship, I stop caring.”—suggests he was more engaged in the pursuit rather than the emotional depth of partnership.

You expressed yourself openly, trying to find compromises to strengthen the relationship. He agreed in conversation but then pulled back in action, creating a cycle where you felt unheard and emotionally neglected.

His rapid transition into a new relationship suggests emotional detachment— instead of processing the breakup, he was seeking immediate validation elsewhere. You, on the other hand, reflected deeply, feeling the weight of self-abandonment and striving to understand the lessons from the relationship.

A compatible partner for you would be someone who is emotionally secure & communicative— comfortable with open discussions about emotions, intimacy, and relationship dynamics; someone who is consistent & reliable—rather than withdrawing, he would actively engage in conversations and work through challenges with you.

It’d be someone who is self-sufficient & driven—independent, responsible, and ambitious, making the relationship feel like a partnership rather than one-sided effort; someone who is reciprocal in effort & intimacy—since you tend to take the lead, a balanced partner would also initiate plans, affection, and deep conversations.

It’d be someone who is emotionally mature—capable of handling relationship complexities with honesty, reflection, and emotional depth rather than avoidance.

And that someone is not your ex.

* A compatible partner for your ex would be someone who has a more independent attachment style—doesn’t need deep emotional engagement or frequent reassurance in a relationship; someone who doesn’t demand emotional or physical consistency—more accepting of distance and emotional fluctuations rather than seeking constant connection.

It’d ne someone who prefers a low-maintenance dynamic—a relationship with fewer intense discussions where physical and emotional intimacy are not primary focuses; someone who doesn’t challenge avoidance patterns—rather than seeking clarity in discussions, she would be okay with non-confrontational dynamics.

It’d be someone wo accepts surface-level romance—enjoys the initial excitement of relationships but doesn’t need profound emotional engagement long-term.

And that someone is not you. I would say that the two of you were significantly incompatible.

One more comment regarding this: “Our arguments began to revolve exclusively around intimacy, creating a toxic pattern: I would express myself, and he would retreat into silence.”-

Arguing about physical intimacy—rather than having gentle, open discussions—is deeply damaging to both emotional and physical connection. When intimacy becomes a battleground instead of a shared experience, it kills emotional trust and can make physical closeness feel forced rather than organic. In other words, ARGUING about physical and emotional intimacy = Death of intimacy.

I would love to read your thoughts about the above, Mei.

You asked about my first breakup. My answer, however strange it may sound: I had no first breakup because I didn’t have a first relationship. At your age and much later, I wasn’t able to have a relationship. I was too sick, emotionally, to have one.

anita