Maybe It's Chemistry or Maybe It's Just My Trauma Bonding

LENGTH WARNING: This piece is very long. I tried for short and sweet but it’s about trauma bonding for the love of God. There is nothing short and sweet about it.

Back in late September, I downloaded Bumble after deleting a different dating app. I thought maybe the change of scenery would bring with it a new palette of offerings. I’m not sure what I was actually thinking because what I really wanted to do was delete all the dating apps all together. However, in the time of COVID, I have no idea how to actually meet someone so instead, I decided to switch apps.

Within minutes there he was. The guy. The one that gave me butterflies in high school and who periodically, for reasons unbeknownst to me, popped into my head from time to time over the years. I wonder what XXXXX is doing with his life.

I stared at his profile and questioned whether or not I should swipe right. He was, after all, the older brother of a girl who was in my graduating class and I knew him in real life. Sort of. Plus, he always felt so far out of my reach. Could I really sit with the discomfort of him possibly not swiping back on me?

I decided what the hell. This is 2020 after all. Anything is possible. We are adults now. We are no longer awkward teens. We are full-blown single forty-somethings just looking for love. Why is it so hard to believe that maybe it could be with each other. So I swiped right.

A MATCH! A hit of dopamine shot to my brain and butterflies danced in my belly. What the what? I was not expecting that. And then, Oh God. I thought. We…matched. Could a version of my own Hallmark Movie really be in the near future? You know the one where the girl moves back to her hometown, runs into the older brother of a girl she went to high school with who she secretly always had a crush on and he sees her and is like, "Wow. You sure grew up!” And they fall in magical love right then and there. End scene.

I stared at my phone. The rules of Bumble require the woman reach out to the man first. I know, stupid. I think it sets a weird precedence but I believe, is to help prevent the often uncomfortable and entirely inappropriate slew of annoying and cheesy come-ons and occasional unsolicited dick pics. Yep, that has actually happened to me. Uninvited. Unwelcome.

What do I even say to him? Will he remember who I am? What if he REALIZES who I am and doesn’t respond? What if he accidentally swiped right? And just like that, I’m back in high school right along with all my paralyzing insecurities about the boy I have a crush on.

“I’m not that person anymore, Amanda. I’ve grown up. I’m different, more self-assured. More, interesting. Plus, he is not the sun Amanda. YOU are the sun.” I coached myself until I had the courage to type, “XXXXX! How are you? You know we know each other in real life, right?” Knowing full well I may never hear back from him I hit SEND. And then chewed off all my nails waiting.

Within a little bit he wrote back and the smile on my face spread from cheek to cheek and just for a brief moment I entertained the thought that just maybe I would get my Hallmark movie after all. After several long exchanges back and forth and a few hour long phone calls we decided to meet up. We picked a place in Issaquah with outdoor seating to be COVID safe. We met and six hours later, it was decided. We had amazing chemistry. Or at least we could talk nonstop for six hours. But it was more than just two friends talking at length. Mixed in was the perfect amount of flirting and lust filled eyes gazing. It was dreamy.

We continued talking over the next few days, both through text and on the phone as he lives an hour and a half north which is a little outside my comfort level of “no long distance dating” but not a total deal breaker. One of the things I found so refreshing about him was that he preferred talking over the phone. It wasn’t just refreshing. It was a full on turn on in todays dating world. We decided to meet up later that week when he was back in the area.

But a few days into our whirlwind flirtation it happened. I don’t know what it is but I feel it in my gut before it actually happens. A disconnect. It’s like I can feel them break away or wander off mentally. As an anxious attachment style, in the past this would send me into a fit of anxiety. But now I know as an anxious I tend to attract avoidant so I know to hang back a bit and just let them work their process too. So I did. I went about my thing all the while knowing something felt off. It’s the blessing and the curse of being a highly and borderline freakishly intuitive person.

When the day we decided to meet up came and he hadn’t solidified plans I just knew. This was also after two other unanswered texts. I knew he had no intentions of really pursuing anything. I’ve been in this dating game long enough to know what it feels like to have someone interested and to have someone throw me in their "I’ll just reach out when I’m lonely” back pocket. I also knew that I really needed to uphold my boundaries and that I am looking for a man that is consistent. Someone who wants to get to know me as much as I want to know them. Someone who’s actions and words totally align.

Mind you, wanting and actually holding out for are two entirely different things.

After the second unanswered text, I decided that here was my opportunity to see my growth. I could lean into the anxiety of being ghosted or the potential ghosting that was happening and allow myself to feel the rejection and disappointment, and let it go, knowing very well that ghosting is a reflection of them, not me. The next day he called and left a message that he had to head back north because a friend had an emergency. Which, now knowing what I know, I can’t help but wonder if this “friend” was really more than a friend.

Cool. Stuff happens in life. I get that. But that still doesn’t warrant not responding to my “hey did you still want to get together today” text from the day before. When I called back it went to voicemail and then, after two days of no response, my anxiousness got the best of me. Ya’ll know how I feel about ghosting and if you don’t, read this post. I have a 0% tolerance for it and call that shit out when I realize it is happening. We literally live in the easiest time to just be direct. You can send a friggin’ text message it’s that easy.

After several text drafts I finally settled on the one that felt the most emotionally mature and just wished him the best but that I am worthy of the decency of someone not just disappearing on me. Blah blah blah. He called right away after receiving this text. We had a good conversation and he apologized and said he did want to continue getting to know me and was interested.

Then….nothing. Ghosted. Again.

After nothing more came from him over the course of the next few days I just let it go. I was already exhausted from something that was suppose to be fun, flirty, steamy and new.

I know enough now to know that sure, his actions plain sucked and were rude and insensitive but I also recognize that I had a part too. We always have a part because we continue to entertain their actions. We ignore our boundaries.

So I spent the next few weeks in my shop working on my art and doing what I do best, reflecting on why it is that I am still attracting avoidant and unavailable men.

And here is the part of the story I really don’t want to admit but I have to because well, it’s part of the story and more importantly, part of my next level of growth.

The weeks rolled by until about a month later there he was again. To be honest, I could feel that he was going to reach out soon. Don’t ask me how or why I know these things but I can ALWAYS feel it. The night after election night I saw my phone light up indicating that I had a text and as I reached for my phone to see who it was I knew before I looked.

“Hey Amanda. I hope you are well. I’ve been thinking about you and I’d really like to spend time with you and continue to get to know you more.”

I stared at my phone.

Fuck.

My mom’s words that she borrowed from Oprah who repeated what was originally said by Maya Angelu echoed through my head, “Amanda, people show you who they are right away. Believe them.”

Yeah ladies, I know I know. But this was the guy and I’ve still got unresolved daddy issues so…

I responded. Right after I went up to my landlords place and talked to him for thirty minutes about what I should do. We have a funny relationship like that.

High school crush guy and I talked for awhile on the phone ever so delicately tip toeing around the elephant in the room and I listened as he told me how overwhelmingly busy the weeks were after we initially met and as he talked, I told my intuition that was screaming “NOBODY IS THAT BUSY WHEN IT COMES TO SOMEONE THEY ARE INTERESTED IN” to take a hike. Hottie McHottie was back damnit and we had unfinished business.

Before we got off the phone he said he would be in touch to let me know about ‘spending time together.’

As we hung up I couldn’t shake the feeling that nobody is THAT busy for someone they are truly interested in. But then again, this is my Hallmark movie and anything is possible.

The days that followed again proved my intuition right. Nothing.

As I type all this out all I can think is, good Lord Amanda. You’ve still got work to do.

I want to point out here I am in no way trying to be a victim to his actions here. I know very well that by responding to his messages, I invited him back into my life knowing that my gut was telling me a different story.

There was a time not too long ago that I would take this and make it ALL about how I wasn’t enough for them. Because of therapy and actively pulling apart my past trauma and the stories I create in my head, I realized that this is merely a reflection of where I still need to heal.

This time I just let his lack of follow through go. Annoyed I promised myself that when he reached out again I’d ignore it.

Util he did reach out again two weeks later. I stared at my phone once again.

“Hey! I’ve been thinking about you and your curls.”

I know, barf. As I type this all out I see how barfy this actually was. Believe you me, I am cringing at myself right now.

I know exactly what I should have done. I do.

It’s just, with some men it’s easier then others. Some men I can just say good-bye too but others, others are like the emerald green Kryptonite in my life and Jesus Christ, it’s like even though I’m repeatedly burning my hand on the hot stove, I just keep forgetting it’s hot or choose to believe that this time, even though the stove is a bright fiery red, it’s really not that hot.

But yeah, instead of ignoring the text like I should have, I responded. And once again he said he really wanted to spend time with me. This time I laid my boundaries out VERY clearly. I said the only way I would entertain this is if he was consistent and actually made plans.

And this time he was actually consistent with the correspondence. He called and texted but after two weeks of still no attempt at making any plans I knew, once again, I was being strung along. Probably because he knew he could get what he needed (attention) from a sucker like me. Somewhere inside he knew he was my form of Kryptonite, my drug of choice, and all he had to do was give me just enough and I was hooked.

But I kept coming back to something: nobody is THAT busy when it comes to true romantic interest. Sure, maybe it’s timing. Or maybe I just need to admit to myself that still have work to do.

I keep telling myself that I want a man who shows up from day one and is consistent in his interest for me. I want the chemistry AND the consistency. I don’t want guessing games or the wondering what if’s. I know, on a conscious level, that I am worthy of what I want and am actively learning how to really believe that. I suppose this is done by showing up for myself different. By setting very clear and consistent boundaries and communicating and acting on them.

So I bid him farewell and asked that he please respect my boundaries. And I hated every moment of it because this drug feels just as good as it feels bad.

And I took my bruised ego and disappointment and annoyance at boundaries on a good long walk. I have a clear idea of the truth now. My truth. I want more for myself.

There is still a part of me that is longing to be chosen by the avoidant man. That little girl in me who’s dad never could be there for her the way she needed him to be aches to be chosen.

I guess what I am realizing is I have to keep choosing her and one day that will be enough.

I look forward to mulling this one over in therapy on Tuesday.