Am I The Reason Men Refuse To Commit?

A few lessons learned from friend zone ground zero

Around 10:30 p.m. last Friday, I was walking around the West Village on the verge of tears. I happened to be two blocks away from his apartment. Hours prior, my friend and I discussed my ever-evolving love life over dinner and four rounds of cocktails. It was my attempt at drowning my sorrows of hopelessness.

She offered me a pep talk. Told me men are slow to commit but slow to leave, so he will come back at some point. Somehow I took that as a green light to unblock his number and text him in hopes of stopping by. I missed him and wanted to talk.

Getting no response was disappointing. My makeup was flawless, minus some smeared mascara. My dress was pretty. I made the extra effort just in case I ran into him while downtown. I knew he was home being a dweeb. “Why does he insist on giving me the silent treatment?” It had been weeks at that point. So I began to angrily draft a follow up on the train ride home:

Me: I do not think you will ever be in the mood to tell me what is bothering you about me. That was just your way of rejecting any hope I had. It is not fair but it’s whatever. I do not think you realize how much it hurt my feelings to watch you literally do everything you said you would not do to me. And judging me for trying to fix it and be a good friend. But I guess I really [mean nothing] to you. I hear you loud and clear.

I decided to exfoliate my face instead of hitting send. Probably for the best. I had said enough to him. He knew how I felt. He knew I was hurt. And he is not just another guy or another blog post about failed dates. He presented himself as “the one” yet figured out a way to let me down by not committing to the process.

The Synopsis

Chris (what we will call him for now) and I have known each other for four years. I vividly remember the day we met in Brooklyn through our mutual friend. Last winter, she told me Chris asked her if I was dating anyone. I was shocked and flattered. I did not think I might be his type. But since I knew him and, at the time, trusted him, I figured, “Why not? See what he has to say.”

When I was toying with the idea of moving back to New York earlier this year, he and I met up a few times. It is always good to see him, but there was a spark or two this time around. Those sparks built up over the months of my transition back to the city.

Regular one-on-ones. Deep conversations about our thoughts on partnership. The way he looked at me. Calling me “Love.” Everything was so different, so affirming, and so promising. And the best part was us taking our time to build and establish intentions without the external pressure to DTR.

But somewhere along the way, we fizzled out. Like every other situationship I have been in that made it past the third date, I experienced a trigger moment when my suitor’s behavior became avoidant and inconsistent. It was as if a switch was turned off, and Chris became less eager to meet up. He took longer to respond to my messages. Promised to “make it up to me” after disappearing from my birthday party, but never did.

I ran analysis reports in my head and freaked out. My perpetual fears of abandonment, being misunderstood, and rejection drove me to be anxious with him. More candid with the emotions I was navigating. Reaching out to him with opportunities to clear the air. Always assuming the worst possible outcome.

But alas, he scolded me for trying. Told me weeks ago he was not in the mood to talk about it. He blamed my insecurities about his interest on my “habit of always putting others first.” I then came to a self-destructive resolve I was the problem. My analytical and persistent way of dealing with conflict, my desire for him to be open with me, and my willingness to be a safe space for the unknown. These things must have been why men do not commit. Because if Chris would not, who would?

I have spent the first two months of year 25 trying to figure this out. It always comes to this at some point of the courting. I happen to be in a place where I am ready to create space for another person to share it with. Yet, I keep getting aggressively rejected without notice or consideration of my personal agency in relationships. So I sought out some reprieve during my last few weeks of therapy. Luckily I got some answers.

Men tend to speak in moments and not think about what they say in context.

Chris offered me a lot “promises.” But those promises reflected his sentiments about that moment in time rather than the tools and intentions he possessed to back up those claims. Like the sentiment of having effortless dinner discussions in Harlem or grabbing coffee on the bench outside of his building. I remember when he first said we should apply to go to graduate school together. Get a dog together. That he would hold me accountable for self-care. That we were at a level in our friendship where we could innocently cuddle and watch The Boondocks without fear of him making me feel sexualized or uncomfortable.

The things he said were genuine (in the moment) and never forced by me. In fact, I was always surprised when he said them. But because he did not have the awareness to think about what he said in context of how it would be received, he was merely a pursuer in word. And I ultimately became the pursuer in deed, alone. I built a de facto relationship off of the hope in those spoken moments when he had no intention to be accountable to what he said. No wonder he met me with hostility any time I wanted to “talk.”

A man’s avoidance stems from negating any willingness to take unfamiliar risks rather than negating his feelings for me.

The toughest part of Chris and I’s demise was my long-standing assumption he did not care about me. My father, ex-best friend, and a host of others have used the silent treatment to abuse me for years. Chris was well aware of this, so his sudden employment of avoidance made me feel unwanted and lied to. I relied on his past displays of maturity. So any silence on his part must mean I forced him to move on from whatever feelings he had for me, right?

Wrong. Like my friend told me at dinner, men are slow to commit but slow to leave. Chris’ feelings never changed. He just became afraid of the accountability I was seeking from him. He assumed the building phase of our friendship was a waiting room for a (hypothetical) moment of revelation, letting him know he was “ready” to be fully emotionally available to me. It is clear men like Chris do not go after what they want in real time, only what they can handle. Too bad I do not hand out participation trophies.

Being vulnerable and emotionally literate does not make me any less of a 10 out of 10.

Pretty self-explanatory.

Chris made me feel like being self-sacrificing and unafraid of my emotions took away from me being a great catch. He would tell me things like, “You have way more on your plate than I do, and you need to put yourself first.” In retrospect, that sounds like a cop out. Of course I would be more palatable as a selfish and purely self-promoting person. Our culture hates the thought of women who are concurrently assertive, strong-willed, intentional, and gracious.

Chris thought my prioritization of his affections was a character flaw, rather than me just being good at multitasking. If anything is compromised while “doing me,” trust me when I say everyone would know it. Part of me will always put others first because it is how I love and core to my Christian character. But you better believe it will not be used as a scapegoat for another’s inability to be my equal. If a man needs time to think, he should be able to use his words to say so.

If I was easier. Less intuitive. Loved myself less. Demanded fewer interpersonal skills. Maybe I would have “a man” right now.

But the good news is a lot of men being messy is not all of the men being messy. And a lot of failure in this department does not necessarily make me a complete screw up. Seven years of perpetual, unrequited love (as sad as it is) is not eternity or the worst that could happen to me.

I am on a journey to get in the best spiritual, emotional, and physical shape of my life in a world full of a lot of people who like the idea of it but may never have what it takes to keep up. And there is room for all of us. Just not in my sacred spaces. I refuse to betray my own heart.