Why We Keep Choosing People Who Can’t Choose U
For a long time, I had a pattern of being drawn to emotionally unavailable men.
They couldn’t love me.
You know the drill:
They commit to you one day, vanish the next.
They don’t ask much about you, and they don’t share much about themselves.
They fixate on the physical connection (read: hot sex), while dodging anything that smells like emotional intimacy.
They’re “texters,” not planners. They keep you lingering in a virtual purgatory that never quite becomes a real relationship.
And if you’ve ever been with someone like this, you know exactly what follows:
The slow, aching drip of rejection.
The loneliness inside togetherness.
The hollow high of attention that never turns into care.
That was me. Over and over again.
I blamed my dysfunctional family. I blamed dating apps. I blamed the city. I blamed patriarchy. I even blamed my astrology chart.
But eventually, I had to face the mirror:
All those men had one thing in common: me.
Not because I had some supernatural magnet for broken men.
But because, underneath all my longing and romantic idealism, I was emotionally unavailable too.
Yes, they ran.
But I hid.
They were afraid of intimacy.
But so was I.
I was terrified of letting someone see the real me.
Terrified of being disappointed. Of disappointing.
Terrified of being trapped. Or being bored. Or being known.
And that truth cracked something open in me.
From that moment on, I stopped asking why men were so unavailable and started asking why I kept seeking out relationships where I could stay in hiding.
I did the work. Therapy. Coaching. Books. Groups. Hard conversations.
As I started healing this pattern in myself, I began noticing it everywhere, especially in the brilliant women who found their way to my office.
Brilliant. Fierce. Beautiful. Successful. Funny.
And still stuck in painful loops with unavailable men.
And what I saw was this:
Most of us have been taught that love means effort.
That if it’s not hard, it’s not real.
That we have to be patient, loving, endlessly forgiving.
That if someone is distant, it’s our job to reach.
And when it’s not hard? We get bored. Suspicious. Uncomfortable.
Because we’re not used to being received. We’re not used to being met.
And so we keep chasing what we know.
Even when it hurts.
But here’s what I want you to consider:
When you’re fantasizing about someone who isn’t available to you, you’re unavailable to someone who could be.
When you’re stuck in a half-relationship, waiting, hoping, guessing, you’re unavailable to your own life.
When you’re pouring energy into fixing or decoding someone you’re unavailable to your own healing.
Let that land.
This pattern doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re protecting something tender. You’ve been hurt. You adapted.
But what protected you before may now be what’s keeping love out.
And love, real love, doesn’t require chasing.
It asks to be received.
💌 Love Work
No more crumbs, babe. Only the feast.
📝 For the next week:
Notice the next time you feel more excited about someone who’s inconsistent
than someone who’s reliable. That’s your unavailability speaking. Listen to what it’s protecting.
When you’re ready to shift the pattern, I’m here.
In love, truth, and liberation,
Simone