Health
 

Hi I think I had problem like that

We met at a coffee shop in 2020. She laughed at my dumb jokes, remembered my order after one date, and texted me “good morning” every single day for the first six months. I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Her name was Sarah, and she had this way of making you feel like the most important person in the room. At first.

The cracks showed around month eight. I was late picking her up because of traffic – maybe 15 minutes. She didn’t speak to me for the whole car ride, then texted me at 2 AM: “You don’t respect my time. My dad was the same way.” I apologized profusely. That set the pattern.

By year two, I was constantly apologizing for things I hadn’t even done. She’d scroll through my Instagram likes and demand explanations for why I liked a colleague’s vacation photo. If I didn’t answer within five minutes, she’d call twice, then send a paragraph about how I was “pulling away.” I stopped hanging out with my friends because it wasn’t worth the fight afterward.

The worst part? After every blow‑up – her screaming, me silent – she’d come back an hour later with tears and say, “I’m so sorry. I just love you too much. It scares me.” And like an idiot, I’d hold her and feel like the hero for forgiving her. That cycle repeated maybe forty times. I lost count.

My friend “Mike” tried to warn me. He said, “Dude, you look exhausted. You used to be the funny one in the group.” I brushed him off. Sarah had convinced me that our intense drama was proof of deep passion – that normal, calm relationships were boring and meant no one really cared.

The final straw was a random Tuesday. I got a work promotion and texted her the news. She replied: “Why didn’t you call me first? Did you tell your mom before me?” I called her, and she started crying that I was prioritizing my career over “us.” That night, I didn’t apologize. I just felt empty.