Dear Roe,
I am a heterosexual woman in my late 20s. A complex medical history and patterns of self-destruction meant that in recent years, I isolated myself from others. More recently, though, I have been enjoying going out and socialising again, and for the moment, the superficiality of any resulting encounters with men suits me. However, I recently met someone who is very intent on pursuing a relationship with me. He is intelligent, kind, extremely polite and shares some of my interests. We work in the same industry and, coincidentally, grew up near each other. Emotionally, there is a definite connection between us. That said, I have made it abundantly clear that I am not interested in committing myself at the moment. On our few dates, I found myself actively trying to get him to lose interest. This is probably partly based on fear; vulnerability is something I have learnt to conflate with weakness. One of my health issues concerns sexual performance and my ability to have children, so I favour detachment. It is incurable and extremely painful, and since being diagnosed, I have not been in a relationship. Worse still, for all his qualities, I am not physically attracted to this man, though he has not held back on telling me how beautiful he finds me. I initially thought this was just flattery, but am now quite sure his feelings are genuine. Worryingly, my disinterest in being physically intimate with him is something he fully attributes to guardedness. This lack of connection makes me want to draw a line in the sand, but I don’t know how. Based on what I have learned about him so far, he will not let go easily. I have shared enough to give him ammunition – if he so wishes to use it – to manipulate my vulnerability. I want to end this as peaceably as possible. I have no desire to hurt this man who, in so many ways, seems to be the ideal person for me. How do I handle this?
There are questions for advice columnists, and there are questions that have underlying issues that require a therapist, and this one is firmly in the latter category.
You are clearly aware that you carry a complex history of trauma, medical issues, and the deeply ingrained patterns of self-protection that have developed in response to very real pain. And yet, even amid all that, you seem to be in a place of growth and hard-won self-awareness. That is no small thing. The fact that you are going out again, engaging with people, even letting yourself get close to this man at all – these are signs that some part of you wants connection and intimacy. That part of you is beautiful and brave and deserves to be nurtured, not smothered by fear or doubt.
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But there’s still a lot of self-judgment and ambivalence here, too. You have internalised the belief that vulnerability equals weakness – a belief many of us, especially people who have experienced trauma, are taught in ways both subtle and scarring. It’s no wonder that, when something resembling emotional safety or vulnerability appears, your instinct is to question it, test it, and try to push it away. And it’s no wonder that after isolation and distance from others, you now have huge ambivalence towards this man who is expressing interest in you in ways that may be flattering but are also pushy. Part of you wants to connect with someone, but part of you wants to keep him away.
And the truth is, this man may not be right for you. You say you’re not physically attracted to him, and if that is important to you, that alone is enough. You say you’ve made it clear you’re not seeking a relationship, and he doesn’t seem to be taking that boundary seriously, which is concerning. And yet you’re still spending time with him, going on dates with him. That tension between your actions and your inner clarity suggests a kind of tug-of-war between the part of you that wants connection and the part of you that fears it.
Here’s what I hear underneath all of this: you don’t trust yourself yet. You worry your disinterest might be fear-based, so you override it. You worry he’ll be hurt if you’re honest, so you silence yourself. You fear he’ll manipulate you, yet you stay entangled. This isn’t about being indecisive, it’s about how trauma teaches us to second-guess our instincts, to believe that our truth must always be filtered, softened, or reinterpreted through someone else’s feelings.
If you don’t want to be with this man, that’s okay. You are allowed to want intimacy, but not with him. You are allowed to appreciate his kindness without accepting his pursuit. You are allowed to feel ambivalent and still draw a firm boundary. You do not have to keep trying to talk yourself into wanting someone just because they seem ideal on paper or treat you well. Attraction, connection, and desire are not debts you owe anyone in exchange for their affection.
If you know in your body that this isn’t the right relationship, you are allowed to end it. Doing so is not a declaration that he is a bad person; it’s simply a declaration that you are not romantically interested in him. A compassionate, clear ending might sound like, “I’ve truly appreciated getting to know you, but I’ve come to realise that I’m not feeling the connection I would need in order to continue seeing each other romantically. This isn’t about needing more time or healing – it’s about clarity. I hope you can understand and respect that.”
However, I also want to hold space for the small possibility that you do like him. Initial physical attraction does not have to be the deciding factor in a relationship. Maybe part of you is drawn to this man and his desire to spend time getting to know you, or his kindness. Again, that doesn’t mean that you have to be with him necessarily, but it could tell you that some of what he’s offering is important to you, and that’s important information for you to have moving forward when you meet someone else.
You are allowed to say no. You are allowed to not want what someone else is offering
I don’t know. And you don’t have to know for certain either. But what is going to be really important for you is getting a great therapist who can help you explore everything you’ve been through, help you work on your self-worth, self-trust and boundaries so that you can start to connect with what feels right to you again. This may not be the man for you, but when someone else comes along offering kindness and connection, I want you to trust yourself enough to say yes if you want to.
A good therapist – especially someone experienced in chronic illness, trauma, and intimacy – can help you untangle the false stories you’ve absorbed: that you are broken, that you are undeserving, that your body is too complicated to be loved, that vulnerability makes you weak. These are lies you’ve lived with too long, and you deserve the freedom of unlearning them.
Let this be the beginning of practising trust – not in this man, but in yourself. You are allowed to say no. You are allowed to not want what someone else is offering. You are allowed invest in yourself so that when the right person does offer you something, you believe that you deserve to receive it, and trust yourself enough to accept it without fear.
