u/bBungalowgirl

Hi everyone,

I’m trying to make sense of something that happened after an eight-month relationship, because the contrast between the relationship itself and the breakup has been really hard for me to process.

We’re both in our mid-50s and both have children, from teenagers to young adults. We didn’t meet on a dating app. We already knew each other indirectly through mutual friends and professional circles. We’re from the same small town and went to the same high school.

The relationship developed slowly. It took about three months before we became physically intimate. By January and February we had our own little world: nicknames, inside jokes, favourite songs, shared references. He initiated the first date in November and most of the dates afterward. We texted every day, often throughout the day.

He was warm and very present when we were together. He would reach for my hand, intertwine his fingers with mine, kiss me in public, play with my hair, and during intimate moments he would look into my eyes for a long time, very deeply. I experienced those looks as meaningful. After the breakup, he told me they didn't have any particular meaning for him.

He was actually quite open in many ways. He talked a lot about his children, his parents, his friends, his interests and especially his mother, who had died. He sometimes compared me to her. He remembered plenty of details about me and loved to make fun of me in a loving way. What he seemed less comfortable with was talking directly about his own emotions. I didn't consider that a problem. I assumed he simply needed more time to open up. He could tell me stories about work or his life, and I understood that this was his way of telling me how he felt about people and things.

He also rarely talked about previous relationships. The exception was the last Sunday before the breakup mi-July, when he told me in detail about a painful previous breakup and how abandoned he had felt. It was the first time he had really opened up to me about that part of his life.

April and May were particularly good. He initiated day trips, long days walking around the city, romantic outings and other things that clearly required time and effort. Before a month-long trip in June, he looked at me deeply and told me he was proud of me because of something I had accomplished. He stayed in regular contact while travelling, texted me before his flight home and brought me carefully chosen souvenirs.

When he came back in July, he planned a full day of cycling and a picnic with me. We had a wonderful day, came home exhausted and fell asleep. All day long, he kissed me on street corners, teased me as usual, and told me to cuddle up next to him while we were lying on the blanket in the park. We laughed a lot, as usual.

The next morning we were intimate, had breakfast and talked for a long time about our previous relationships. At one point I told him I had been a little afraid that his trip might have changed something between us. He laughed and reassured me that he was back and everything was fine. He gave me the souvenirs he'd brought me.

Monday was completely normal. We exchanged messages throughout the day. Tuesday morning, he sent me a funny video, as he often did. At night, we texted as usual.

On Wednesday I asked what he was planning for the following weekend and discovered he had already made plans with his family and for himself. I then texted him to invite him to my son's upcoming birthday, which would have meant meeting some members of my family. I made it clear that the invitation was entirely optional, and jokingly added that it was certainly not a commitment to marriage.

That invitation seems to have been the turning point. His response caught me completely off guard. He suddenly became very formal and simply said that he would get back to me about it. I felt he was uncomfortable and immediately replied that it was fine if he didn't want to attend.

Silence followed until Friday.

On Saturday, he broke up with me by phone.

He told me that, to him, the invitation meant the relationship was changing status and that new family ties were being created. To me, it was simply an invitation so he could better understand my life and the people I care for. It didn't seem like a big deal after eight months. He never gave us the chance to talk about it.

He told me that he had apparently known since around April that his feelings weren't going to develop into what he called an "amorous impulse" or romantic commitment. But he had never told me that he was having doubts. He continued behaving affectionately, initiating plans and responding positively whenever I showed interest.

He refused to meet in person. He said that a face-to-face conversation would be too painful and would become an interrogation. I told him that what hurt me was not simply his decision, but that I had been given no indication that he was reaching it, and that he was refusing to have a conversation about what the relationship had meant to each of us. To me, it was simply about respecting what we had shared. We never had a fight and he always told me I was easy to get along with. Even the last Sunday, he said it was easy to talk to me.

He then sent several emails explaining his decision, even though I had told him that if he wasn't willing to meet, I didn't want more explanatory emails.

He said that some weekends when he had taken time for himself should have been understood as signs that his feelings weren't progressing at the same pace as mine. This had happened maybe three or four times over six months. I had considered it completely normal. We both have children, friends, family and our own lives, and we hadn't reached the stage of integrating each other fully into our families and social circles.

He also described my understanding of the relationship as projection. That hurt.

At the same time, in one of his emails he acknowledged that there had been affection, comfort, complicity and many positive things between us, but said that they had never become what he considered an "amorous impulse." He said he was sincerely exploring a romantic possibility.

That's the part I am struggling with.

I can accept that we didn't feel exactly the same thing. But based on everything I actually experienced, I had very little reason to think I was living something fundamentally different from him. That's what I find so difficult to understand.

In February, he planned a concert we were supposed to attend in September. He reached for my hand when we walked. He kissed me in public. He planned romantic outings. He showed me places that mattered to him and places connected to his childhood. He told me he was proud of me. He brought me gifts from his trip. He kept in touch while travelling. He continued sending me funny videos and the little affectionate messages and emojis that had become part of our relationship.

None of that proves he was in love with me in the same way I was falling for him. But it makes it very difficult for me to understand how my experience can now be described as essentially a projection.

After the breakup, I removed him from my social media because seeing him there was making it harder for me to heal. Some of my stories were public and he continued viewing some of them, partly because we have many friends in common, so I eventually blocked him on Facebook and Instagram. I then sent him a voice message explaining why I was doing it.

I chose a voice message deliberately. I wanted him to hear my tone of voice. I wanted to speak calmly and remind him that there was an actual person on the other side of this, not just a disagreement that could be settled through emails.

I told him I was puzzled by his version of the relationship and that I had been deeply hurt by the way he handled the breakup. I told him that the way he handled the breakup had changed the way I viewed him, and that by refusing to meet me, he had made the breakup much more dehumanizing than it needed to be. I wasn't asking him to come back or reconsider. I didn't even ask him to respond.

He briefly replied that we had not been "on the same page."

I answered that I had never really known what page he was on. I wished him good luck. As far as I was concerned, the exchange was over.

A week later, he wrote again.

And this is where the contrast became almost surreal to me.

The man I had known for eight months was warm, funny, affectionate and attentive. The person writing this email was extremely cold, rigid, defensive and bureaucratic. He described my voice message as "scripted" and said that my interpretation of the relationship was a way of avoiding the reality that our feelings were asymmetrical. He used the word "asymmetrical" repeatedly in his emails.

He also said he had closed all communication channels so that I could move on, even though I had already blocked him on Facebook and Instagram. He removed me from LinkedIn, (not blocked me) where we had never communicated.

I found the lack of empathy much harder than the breakup itself. It seemed like I was not even a human being to him anymore.

So this is what I'm trying to understand.

1. How can someone be warm, affectionate and apparently genuinely connected to you until almost the very end, and then become so emotionally detached when ending the relationship?
2. Could this be some form of avoidant deactivation, particularly after a relationship suddenly acquires a more serious meaning and after an unusually intimate conversation about past relationships? Or could there be another explanation that makes more sense?
3. And for those who have experienced something similar: how do you recover from the rewriting of the relationship? I felt like he disqualified my experience. How do you keep trusting your own experience when the other person suddenly tells the story very differently? Is this a form of gaslighting, or is it simply what happens when two people have radically different interpretations of the same relationship?

I am not looking for advice on how to get him back. We have been broken up for a month today, and I am actually doing much better. I want to move on, but so many things don't compute in my heart and in my head.

I'm trying to understand how the same person can seem so warm and human during the relationship and then become almost completely detached during the breakup.

The relationship was real to me, and he doesn't completely deny that in his emails. It was real to him too. The affection was real. Whatever his feelings ultimately were, the connection was real. And, to me, it was a relationship in the making. How could it be so radically different for him?

Thanks,

Hi everyone,

I’m trying to make sense of something that happened after an eight-month relationship, because the contrast between the relationship itself and the breakup has been really hard for me to process.

We’re both in our mid-50s and both have children, from teenagers to young adults. We didn’t meet on a dating app. We already knew each other indirectly through mutual friends and professional circles. We’re from the same small town and went to the same high school.

The relationship developed slowly. It took about three months before we became physically intimate. By January and February we had our own little world: nicknames, inside jokes, favourite songs, shared references. He initiated the first date in November and most of the dates afterward. We texted every day, often throughout the day.

He was warm and very present when we were together. He would reach for my hand, intertwine his fingers with mine, kiss me in public, play with my hair, and during intimate moments he would look into my eyes for a long time, very deeply. I experienced those looks as meaningful. After the breakup, he told me they didn't have any particular meaning for him.

He was actually quite open in many ways. He talked a lot about his children, his parents, his friends, his interests and especially his mother, who had died. He sometimes compared me to her. He remembered plenty of details about me and loved to make fun of me in a loving way. What he seemed less comfortable with was talking directly about his own emotions. I didn't consider that a problem. I assumed he simply needed more time to open up. He could tell me stories about work or his life, and I understood that this was his way of telling me how he felt about people and things.

He also rarely talked about previous relationships. The exception was the last Sunday before the breakup mi-July, when he told me in detail about a painful previous breakup and how abandoned he had felt. It was the first time he had really opened up to me about that part of his life.

April and May were particularly good. He initiated day trips, long days walking around the city, romantic outings and other things that clearly required time and effort. Before a month-long trip in June, he looked at me deeply and told me he was proud of me because of something I had accomplished. He stayed in regular contact while travelling, texted me before his flight home and brought me carefully chosen souvenirs.

When he came back in July, he planned a full day of cycling and a picnic with me. We had a wonderful day, came home exhausted and fell asleep. All day long, he kissed me on street corners, teased me as usual, and told me to cuddle up next to him while we were lying on the blanket in the park. We laughed a lot, as usual.

The next morning we were intimate, had breakfast and talked for a long time about our previous relationships. At one point I told him I had been a little afraid that his trip might have changed something between us. He laughed and reassured me that he was back and everything was fine. He gave me the souvenirs he'd brought me.

Monday was completely normal. We exchanged messages throughout the day. Tuesday morning, he sent me a funny video, as he often did. At night, we texted as usual.

On Wednesday I asked what he was planning for the following weekend and discovered he had already made plans with his family and for himself. I then texted him to invite him to my son's upcoming birthday, which would have meant meeting some members of my family. I made it clear that the invitation was entirely optional, and jokingly added that it was certainly not a commitment to marriage.

That invitation seems to have been the turning point. His response caught me completely off guard. He suddenly became very formal and simply said that he would get back to me about it. I felt he was uncomfortable and immediately replied that it was fine if he didn't want to attend.

Silence followed until Friday.

On Saturday, he broke up with me by phone.

He told me that, to him, the invitation meant the relationship was changing status and that new family ties were being created. To me, it was simply an invitation so he could better understand my life and the people I care for. It didn't seem like a big deal after eight months. He never gave us the chance to talk about it.

He told me that he had apparently known since around April that his feelings weren't going to develop into what he called an "amorous impulse" or romantic commitment. But he had never told me that he was having doubts. He continued behaving affectionately, initiating plans and responding positively whenever I showed interest.

He refused to meet in person. He said that a face-to-face conversation would be too painful and would become an interrogation. I told him that what hurt me was not simply his decision, but that I had been given no indication that he was reaching it, and that he was refusing to have a conversation about what the relationship had meant to each of us. To me, it was simply about respecting what we had shared. We never had a fight and he always told me I was easy to get along with. Even the last Sunday, he said it was easy to talk to me.

He then sent several emails explaining his decision, even though I had told him that if he wasn't willing to meet, I didn't want more explanatory emails.

He said that some weekends when he had taken time for himself should have been understood as signs that his feelings weren't progressing at the same pace as mine. This had happened maybe three or four times over six months. I had considered it completely normal. We both have children, friends, family and our own lives, and we hadn't reached the stage of integrating each other fully into our families and social circles.

He also described my understanding of the relationship as projection. That hurt.

At the same time, in one of his emails he acknowledged that there had been affection, comfort, complicity and many positive things between us, but said that they had never become what he considered an "amorous impulse." He said he was sincerely exploring a romantic possibility.

That's the part I am struggling with.

I can accept that we didn't feel exactly the same thing. But based on everything I actually experienced, I had very little reason to think I was living something fundamentally different from him. That's what I find so difficult to understand.

In February, he planned a concert we were supposed to attend in September. He reached for my hand when we walked. He kissed me in public. He planned romantic outings. He showed me places that mattered to him and places connected to his childhood. He told me he was proud of me. He brought me gifts from his trip. He kept in touch while travelling. He continued sending me funny videos and the little affectionate messages and emojis that had become part of our relationship.

None of that proves he was in love with me in the same way I was falling for him. But it makes it very difficult for me to understand how my experience can now be described as essentially a projection.

After the breakup, I removed him from my social media because seeing him there was making it harder for me to heal. Some of my stories were public and he continued viewing some of them, partly because we have many friends in common, so I eventually blocked him on Facebook and Instagram. I then sent him a voice message explaining why I was doing it.

I chose a voice message deliberately. I wanted him to hear my tone of voice. I wanted to speak calmly and remind him that there was an actual person on the other side of this, not just a disagreement that could be settled through emails.

I told him I was puzzled by his version of the relationship and that I had been deeply hurt by the way he handled the breakup. I told him that the way he handled the breakup had changed the way I viewed him, and that by refusing to meet me, he had made the breakup much more dehumanizing than it needed to be. I wasn't asking him to come back or reconsider. I didn't even ask him to respond.

He briefly replied that we had not been "on the same page."

I answered that I had never really known what page he was on. I wished him good luck. As far as I was concerned, the exchange was over.

A week later, he wrote again.

And this is where the contrast became almost surreal to me.

The man I had known for eight months was warm, funny, affectionate and attentive. The person writing this email was extremely cold, rigid, defensive and bureaucratic. He described my voice message as "scripted" and said that my interpretation of the relationship was a way of avoiding the reality that our feelings were asymmetrical. He used the word "asymmetrical" repeatedly in his emails.

He also said he had closed all communication channels so that I could move on, even though I had already blocked him on Facebook and Instagram. He removed me from LinkedIn, (not blocked me) where we had never communicated.

I found the lack of empathy much harder than the breakup itself. It seemed like I was not even a human being to him anymore.

So this is what I'm trying to understand.

1. How can someone be warm, affectionate and apparently genuinely connected to you until almost the very end, and then become so emotionally detached when ending the relationship?
2. Could this be some form of avoidant deactivation, particularly after a relationship suddenly acquires a more serious meaning and after an unusually intimate conversation about past relationships? Or could there be another explanation that makes more sense?
3. And for those who have experienced something similar: how do you recover from the rewriting of the relationship? I felt like he disqualified my experience. How do you keep trusting your own experience when the other person suddenly tells the story very differently? Is this a form of gaslighting, or is it simply what happens when two people have radically different interpretations of the same relationship?

I am not looking for advice on how to get him back. We have been broken up for a month today, and I am actually doing much better. I want to move on, but so many things don't compute in my heart and in my head.

I'm trying to understand how the same person can seem so warm and human during the relationship and then become almost completely detached during the breakup.

The relationship was real to me, and he doesn't completely deny that in his emails. It was real to him too. The affection was real. Whatever his feelings ultimately were, the connection was real. And, to me, it was a relationship in the making. How could it be so radically different for him?

Thanks,