Hi Eva:

I just want you to know—what you’re feeling makes complete sense. You gave so much in this relationship, and what you received back was confusing, hurtful, and unbalanced. But.. thing is, none of his behavior was a reflection of your worth. Not his emotional distance. Not his avoidance. Not the withholding, the gaslighting, or the lack of care when you were crying. That’s not about you being “not enough.” That’s about him not being emotionally equipped.

These behaviors likely existed long before you ever met him. They weren’t created in reaction to your love—they were already part of how he moved through life, how he coped (or didn’t) with intimacy, vulnerability, and responsibility. You simply stood close enough to feel the impact.

You tried everything. You were patient, expressive, brave. You even softened yourself to match the absence in him. That kind of emotional labor deserves recognition—not regret. And it’s not proof that you failed. It’s proof that you gave someone more than they could hold.

So the heartbreak now isn’t just about losing him. It’s about breaking free from the illusion that if only you had done more, he would have finally chosen you fully. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t know how—not with you, not with anyone.

Please don’t confuse his limitations with your value.

Healing begins when we stop chasing validation from someone who couldn’t even see us—and start asking: Why did I stay so long in a place that kept asking me to shrink?

Your worth is intact. It’s whole. It’s waiting to be seen by someone capable—not just of loving, but of honoring love when it’s offered.

With care, Anita

How are you, Nichole?

How are you, Arden??

How are you, Robi?

How are you, Laven?

Dear Ada:

In this reply, I’ll try to separate objective reality from emotional reality as clearly as I can.

Objective reality:

* Sam and Sarah are no longer “best friends.” Their contact now is limited to exchanging a few greetings here and there:

“He talks to her significantly less… Over several years… Sam has been less and less involved in Sarah’s life to the point where they only exchange a few greetings here and there now. I guess ‘best friend’ isn’t a fair label anymore.”

* Sam hasn’t met with Sarah in person for about four years—ever since shortly after the two of you began dating:

“Shortly after we started dating, we took advantage of the pandemic and remote work, and decided on a bit of a nomadic lifestyle, living in many cities across the US for a few years.”

* A few months ago, after moving back to your home city, Sam suggested that you meet Sarah—this would be your first time meeting her, and his first in about four years:

“Now that we have moved back in the area, he’s talking about meeting up with her again… A few months ago, we moved back to our home city, and recently he said he wanted me to meet Sarah.”

Emotional reality:

“My boyfriend’s relationship with his female best friend… I can’t seem to accept this relationship… the emotional intimacy of it is really eating away at me….”

And yet, if their current contact is minimal—just “a few greetings here and there”—what emotional intimacy actually exists now?

In my earlier replies, I may have confused the emotional reality you’re experiencing with the objective reality you’ve described. It seems what’s causing you distress isn’t what’s happening now, but what could happen if past emotional intimacy resumes. Perhaps the deeper fear is that if that connection rekindles, he’ll choose her over you.

Maybe the ache pulsing beneath it all is the lingering imprint of a childhood wound— that of being overlooked perhaps, or being quietly cast aside, or un-chosen in favor of someone so unlike you..?

With care, Anita

* I neglected part of my reply in the previous submission:

Dear Ada:

“Part of my resentment towards Sam stems from not feeling like he truly values who I am — reserved, conservative, introspective.”-

Ada, your honesty here is powerful. I wonder if the ache you describe might be less about Sam not valuing those parts of you, and more about you not fully valuing them yourself. When we stand firm in our own quiet strengths—our thoughtfulness, our depth, our sensitivity—the need to be seen and affirmed by another softens. It doesn’t vanish, but it stops feeling like proof of worth.

Growth doesn’t mean becoming like Sarah, of course. Growth might mean celebrating the elegance of your own inner rhythm. And maybe, gently, allowing it to take up more space in your relationship—not with loudness, but with certainty.

You don’t need to abandon who you are to be loved well. You only need to stand where you are and decide that it’s enough.

From what you’ve shared, I sense that Sam does value you—he listens, respects your emotions, shares common values, and wants to make the relationship work. But the inner conflict seems to come from you not yet fully embracing your own temperament and identity. You said, “part of me feels insecure about not having the opposite qualities,” and that’s such an honest reflection. But being reserved, conservative, introspective—those aren’t deficits. They’re gifts.

Of course, that doesn’t mean Sam’s behavior hasn’t contributed to the discomfort—it’s possible that both are playing a role. But I wonder if anchoring more deeply in your own self-worth might ease some of the ache around being seen.

🤍 Anita