Attachment Mismatch

If you've ever wondered why you seem to be drawn to the same type of person, regardless of physical appearance or "type", I think I have the answers, as they've come to me in the past month in the process of getting through a breakup. Let me explain. For the longest time, I let the negative experiences during my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood manifest and dig away at my confidence and self-worth. I may have engaged in fitness since the age of 18, eating decently well, and running/biking/playing soccer in addition to my lifting, but I had mental hurdles to overcome. There are tons of wrinkles to explain, and I'll try to get to them all, so let's get started.

Going back to the title, this bit of the story will be the build up to what went down in the relationship that's still fresh in my mind. It started, predictably (given the title), as a young child. You see, I was born at the end of one generation and prior to the next, so I've always had a sense of not belonging. As in, my siblings are >10 years older than me and a firmly in the "millennial" camp, while I'm just ahead of the "Gen Z" folks. I also tend to be relatively traditional in my views, not that I subscribe to either political ideology. The point is, from a young age I've witnessed the continued degradation of society first hand, from a small child, to a teen, to now a young man trying to figure out what the hell his purpose in life is. Like I said though, the attachment bit is based on the fact that when I was young, in the mid to late 90s, that was around the time there was a shift in marriage and parenting, and in my opinion it's a drastic downturn. Basically, kids my age started to talk about their parents getting divorced by the time I was in first or second grade. Then it became the norm for single parent households and everybody competing in the workplace, regardless of gender. You can see how well that's panned out. Anyway, when my siblings were little, my mom took care of them. When I was little, as in like 3, I was dragged from one caregiver to another, and that continued to be quite honest until I was old enough to somewhat care for myself. When I study attachment styles, which I originally learned about a decade ago when I got into psychology at UVA, I now realize that I have traits that signal a deviation from the "norm", also known as a secure attachment. Now, it's not THAT bad, in that I see characteristics from the secure camp that apply to me, but I'd say it's at least 60-40 anxious compared to secure. Again, I don't solely blame my mother for that. That would be too simplistic. However, looking back, I clearly was not given the proper quantity and or quality of parenting as a child, and that's played out in many situations over the course of my life, culminating in this watershed relationship.

When you fall into the anxious category, the long and short of it is you fear abandonment and constantly feel like you aren't good enough. That's been me all my life. I imagine it started when neither parent was around and I was in preschool or after school or summer camp or at a friend's parent's house. Then it was when my siblings left. Then it was when my two best friends moved away in consecutive summers. A stupid incident in eighth grade ended a number of friendships that I thought I had. High school ending began the slow burnout of the guys I thought were like brothers. That was all by age 18. I didn't even invest much into making friends at UVA because I figured they'd all abandon me or not like me, since that had been the pattern all my life. Adding sexual relationships only made things worse. My first experience I felt highly pressured and uncomfortable, as if not doing it would make imply that I was gay or a little bitch, and no young man wants to feel that way. A year later, and I've told almost everyone of importance to me this story at this point, but the second "hookup" I was involved in resulted in a pregnancy that the young lady decided to terminate, without even so much as giving me the heads up that it had happened. I learned that AFTER the fact. I was crushed. That led to predictable depression, and my mental picture of sex and even friendship was tarnished. I didn't talk to anyone about anything, and I tried to drown myself literally and figuratively with alcohol as my coping mechanism. It didn't go well, as anyone with a brain could've told you before I even typed this sentence. Before turning 25 I had two significantly better sexual experiences, and shoutout to those lovely women for allowing me to improve my outlook, because who knows how the rest of this would've gone.

As the last sentence would suggest, I had slightly improved, but at the same time, those were temporary flings if you will and the negative self-image came back in full effect when those two were gone. That's an example of a self-fulfilling prophesy. If you "date" a pregnant woman you meet nearing the end of her third trimester and think it'll end well, given the fact that you already established you aren't gonna be step daddy to two little kids, you're delusional. Also, if you meet a MILF or (GILF to be precise) at the gym and know she's going back to Florida, it's never going to be long lasting. You get your experience and keep it moving. But for me, sex doesn't work that way. I have no idea how people reduce sex to a slightly more complicated form of masturbation that takes place within someone else's body. I mean, I won't lie and say I haven't done it, because I have, far too many times than I'd like to admit. But the reality is if you make it clear that this is a one time thing, whether to boost someone's ego or get them drugs or whatever, there's in theory little chance of feeling devastated when it doesn't work out. Getting back to when I was 25, I'd say that was my phase of just wanting to fuck anything that moved. Best way I can put it. I thank God I didn't catch anything or knock up a drug addict, because that's the pool of women I was fishing in, to keep that metaphor going. That brings us to 2022. It started innocently, but in May I met one woman, and that changed the trajectory of things. How I'll put it is it wasn't great, sexually, but it was fresh and new compared to the transactional situations I'd become accustomed to. The point of me bringing her up though is how I reacted. I got clingy and was open for manipulation, but I had my guard up and got out of there within a month. A similar situation popped up in August. Clear mental health issues, drug use, but my self-worth was so degraded by then that I went for her. Actually, to be fair, her attachment style is different. I think we have the same one, or maybe she's anxious-avoidant. Either way, she told me she loved me early on, which was somewhat off-putting, but also amazing, because that was only the second woman to tell me that in a romantic setting. This all led to the final boss, so to speak.

I could write a whole chapter on this under six month period. I had another relationship that lasted slightly shorter, but this one felt like it was 10x the relationship, if that makes sense. Oh, and this is where the title really comes into play, as after taking a step back, I realize why we're incompatible and why each of us acted how we did. As I said, when I get close to someone, she more or less becomes a main priority. If I don't feel like I'm doing what I'm meant to do, aka fulfilling my purpose, I'll pour my heart and soul into the woman I'm with. That's completely unhealthy, by the way. Now, if you pair that type of behavior with a counterpoint who wants her space and fears getting close to people because they hurt her in the past and that's all she knows, you have a recipe for disaster. I think the best illustration of how messed up it all was would be what led us to break up this first time. We waited close to a month to have sex, and it was by far the most intense and amazing sex I've ever experienced. However, the aftermath is quite possibly the moment it was clear our relationship was doomed. When I experience something awesome like that and frankly fall in love with the person, that's rare, but it also leaves me in the most vulnerable position I can imagine. With that in mind, think of the worst way the woman I'm with could react, and that's what occurred. She wanted space, and without a semblance of communication, we were on opposite wavelengths. I thought about this today because for the longest time I solely blamed myself, believing her words, rather than realizing it's a manipulation tactic people who don't do intimacy well employ. A functional relationship would work like this. We have this amazing weekend of lovemaking, and are on cloud nine. Then, as adults who can communicate openly, she says "hey, I really like you and this was amazing. Let's do it again next week/sometime. I do have things to do though, so I'll need some space." Maybe even the word love is thrown in, if she feels that way about me. Instead, she starts to act distant, pushes me away, and acts surprised when I lose my mind a bit. I mean, what the hell do you expect? I think the irony here is we waited to have sex, trying to build a connection, just to destroy that connection and never rebuild it, largely due to sex. Again, I'm not sitting here saying I'm a great communicator. But at the same time, if you're aware of attachment styles, and it's clear your boyfriend is an anxious one, it's pretty fucked up to run over his feelings metaphorically. It's like, I stayed over one night, I think that was when I "broke up" with her, and instead of saying "hey, not tonight", or using fucking words like an adult, she passive aggressively hints that I should leave an then flips out when I don't get the hints. Whatever you want to call that, it's what happened, and I'm just now realizing that mistakes were made on both sides, whether intentionally or not.

The rest of the relationship played out in a similar fashion. Me doing for her, her using me, and then acting like it was cool. I have my suspicions as to her motives, but in December we decided to try again, sexually and what not, only for that to turn to shit quickly. Basically, and again, this is either a massive sign of immaturity or a manipulation tactic, there was this disconnect about sex, even when we decided to get back together fully. As in, that same night we had the talk, I got us a bottle of Hennessey, just to pass out when she wanted to have sex. I mean damn. You could at least open your mouth or make it blatantly obvious that you want to get dicked down, rather than just let me drink and smoke and fall asleep on you. Two nights later (Sunday) I tried to make a move or whatever, just to get shut down. At that point, in my head, I'm thinking this is over. Actually, two or three weeks earlier I'd gotten my whore "friend" to give me a blowjob, right around Thanksgiving, but then again we weren't together at that time. It's all ridiculously confusing. I'd tried to kiss her a while back, we'd gone on all these dates, and yet nothing. NOTHING. Anyway, the week comes around and I was working Tuesday. The woman I met last August hits me up asking for a ride, and when I get there she's talking about she's horny. My girl then hits me up, five hours after I'd initially texted her, mind you, saying she doesn't feel good. I ask her if she wants anything. I don't know if this was divine intervention, like the Henny night, but I screwed up and forgot one of the things she wanted, which led to me inevitably getting bitched out. Something in my snapped and I decided to fuck my "friend", who is actually a horrible person, but let's not cry over creampies. Point is, I made that conscious decision, and then fessed up to it the following Monday, incase God forbid I'd impregnated the other woman or caught something. In typical fashion, I'm the worst human alive and she supposedly was going to commit fully to me and let me get her pregnant and all that great shit. Funny how every time she's supposedly gonna do a display of affection for me, something magically fucks it up.

Like I said, the main reason I'm writing this is so that a) I never make these mistakes again, and b) if anyone reading this experiences something similar, take my advice and run for the fucking hills while you still can. In fact, I thought about letting her back into my life, which she'd love, unless she's found another victim already, which I wouldn't put past her. If you're like me, you won't believe when people tell you this person is no good for you. You think he/she will change, or when the "situation" is better you'll be treated properly. Guess what, you're wrong. Just like I was. I didn't destroy anything or lose my life, but if I'd listened I wouldn't have gone through the pain. Maybe we do need to go through it though, to really get it. I sure as hell didn't until I had a big enough sample size to realize this persons really doesn't' give a fuck about me or anyone else. I couldn't give a shit how poorly she was raised, Yes, that's fucked up, but it doesn't give you the right to act the way you do. Also, if someone tells you they hate your gender, believe them and block them immediately. I was told to block her months ago and I STILL haven't. I've been in denial, and when your reality is manipulated via gaslighting, it's easy to doubt your sanity. I literally lost my mind for a night and God was looking out for me because I could easily be dead or in jail right now. Instead, she's out of my life, I talked to a bunch of girls the other night and finally feel free. I'm somewhat happy and in control of how I treat myself, despite the void of not having a woman in my life, which is the most important thing any of us can do. There are so many good people in this world, so when someone shows you they're a piece of shit, don't get stuck with that person, work on yourself, and find a person who's good for you.

Peace and love.