Situationships… one of the most confusing and painful experiences someone can go through. Dare I say, sometimes more damaging than an actual relationship. Everyone loves chemistry, but not everyone has the emotional capacity or willingness to commit and turn that connection into something real.
Heartbreak is something we all experience differently, but we cannot deny it’s intensity. There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that doesn’t come from betrayal or explosive fights. Instead, it arrives quietly, almost prematurely. The connection never fully becomes a relationship, yet the loss still feels just as real.
In these dynamics, the two parties are so close to being together, almost something real, maybe meant to be. It’s in this phase where the feelings are growing quickly with chemistry, anticipation, and excitement. Everyone loves the honeymoon phase. But the honeymoon phase was never meant to exist on its own. Without the intention of commitment, what feels magical at first slowly becomes your biggest emotional nightmare.
Situationships live in the purgatory of love—the in-between space no one truly wants to occupy. When we open our hearts to someone, we crave reassurance and certainty. But this type of heartbreak is uniquely mind-boggling because it comes from falling in love with someone who pulls away the moment things begin to matter.
No dramatic ending. No clear explanation. Just the quiet realization that the more you try to connect, the more distant they become. And before you know it, your heart is chipping away one piece at a time.
The Illusion
I will never forget the time a man made me feel like he had stopped time just to introduce himself to me.
It was my junior year of college, and I was bartending at the most well-known college bar in the small town where I lived. As a bartender, getting hit on while working was nothing new. Most of the time it barely registered. A guy setting his attention on you was simply part of the job.
It was a typical Friday night, around 2 a.m. The bouncer had just escorted the last few customers out the door, and we were about ten minutes into the cleanup portion of our shift. As I was wiping down the bar, I noticed a guy outside asking the bouncer to let him in—even though we had already closed.
I have no idea how he managed to get past him. Our bouncer wasn’t exactly known for being accommodating.
But somehow he did.
He walked in, approached me at the bar, and with my coworkers watching the whole scene unfold, he said:
“Hey, I think you’re really beautiful. You caught my attention, and I couldn’t leave without asking for your number. Can I have it?”
Completely caught off guard, I blushed—and of course I gave him my number.
He was tall, had curly hair, and a charming smile. Looking back, I laugh at how awkward the moment was afterward. Everyone staring at us. Him leaving. Me trying to resume cleaning the bar as if nothing had just happened.
It felt surreal.
Like a scene from a movie.
And that’s exactly what these situations feel like in the beginning.
They make those first few moments—sometimes days, weeks, months—feel like absolute cinema.
And usually… that’s exactly what it is.
A movie.
I think we can all agree that the landscape of love and courtship today isn’t what it used to be. Chivalry feels like a rare sighting. Pride and ego are at an all-time high. Everyone is afraid of rejection, and phones have taken much of the courage out of romantic pursuit.
It’s considered cooler now to be nonchalant. To be unbothered. To pretend you don’t care… even when you do.
And in a culture where effort has become rare, the bar has unreasonably been lowered.
That creates the perfect stage for a temporary charming performance.
Today, something as simple as an in-person introduction, obvious interest, opening doors, or planning a thoughtful date can feel extraordinary.
And who wouldn’t be drawn to someone willing to sweep them off their feet? Someone who seems intentional. Someone who asks questions, flirts openly, and makes you feel chosen.
Sometimes, that’s all it takes to reel someone in.
And avoidant people often know exactly how to perform that role.
When The Performance Ends
As all good things do, they eventually come to an end.
I remember this whirlwind of a romance. This man took time to get to know me, he would always come over after work, he introduced me to all of his friends, and before long our lives felt intertwined. He met my sisters, even my cousin who came to stay with us for the summer.
We grew close— really close. That is until my personal boundaries came into the picture.
The thing about Act I. is that it will go as long as it can… essentially until the commitment is challenged.
And commitment can be challenged in the simplest ways:
“what are we?”
“when will you take me on a an actual date?”
“What are your intentions?”
“Are you seeing anyone else?”
I’m laughing as I write this because that’s when you get the face.
The pause.
The wide eyes.
The silence that follows when there isn’t an answer ready.
It’s the look of someone realizing they’ve wandered further into a situation than they ever intended to go.
Like a deer in headlights—except a little more pitiful. (insert side eye here).
After many painful and confusing conversations, we decided to be “exclusive”, and that’s when I saw him the least and he avoided me the most. The same person who once seemed so eager to spend time with me suddenly became the hardest person to reach.
And for someone with an anxious attachment style, that shift is incredibly anxiety-provoking.
Once that mask falls off and the show is over… there is no encore. The person who once made you feel safe, welcomed, and adored is no longer there.
Gone. Hasta la vista bebe.
Now the real dance begins.
Have you ever tried IcyHot?
For me, it’s one of the most uncomfortable sensations imaginable. First it burns, then it cools, then it burns again. Your body can’t quite decide whether to panic or relax.
Now there’s a power dynamic.
Now there’s confusion.
Now there’s endless avoidance mixed with longing.
And suddenly you realize something unsettling:
You’re in a game you never meant to play.
And you were never taught the rules. But now you’re in to deep to even want to walk out.
You just got bamboozled.
It Was Never About You
The hardest realization when dating someone avoidant is understanding that it was never really about you.
The charm, the intensity, and the closeness at the beginning aren’t promises of what’s to come. In many cases, they’re actually the limits of what that person is capable of offering. What feels like the start of something meaningful can sometimes be the full extent of what they know how to give.
It’s the best they have to offer under very specific conditions—conditions where vulnerability and real commitment are never fully required.
And one of the hardest lessons in modern dating is this:
Intensity does not equal genuine interest.
I know.
It’s disappointing and heartbreaking.
Where Do You Go From Here?
Situations like these ultimately teach you something real about yourself. They show you how deeply you’re capable of loving, hoping, and believing in someone. But they also teach you the difference between attention and intention.
Attention can feel good for a while, but there’s no better feeling than someone who genuinely intends to build a connection with you.
When someone truly wants to connect, their actions don’t feel confusing. You don’t have to decode their behavior or question whether you ever mattered. You don’t have to earn consistency.
The right connection doesn’t pull away or fall apart when it’s time to truly show up—when things begin to matter.
And once you understand that, the illusion becomes exactly what it was all along: an illusion.
And one day, hopefully, you encounter something real.
Thanks for being here,
—Liz
Cultura and Clarity 
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