Why Do I Always Break Up With Them?

Always the Dumper, never the Dumpee.

If our pattern of relationships is to mimic our childhood trauma in hopes of “fixing” the situation that damaged us, what the fuck am I doing with my breakups?

In my entire life, whether it’s for serious relationships or straight-up sex-only, I’ve been dumped once. I was 18, it was my first relationship, and we got back together a month later. It shortly ended again, but that’s because he lied about a positive HIV test and you know…that’s kind of a relationship deal-breaker.

I only realized it this week. Perhaps it was the return of Sean, where he said he thought I ghosted him, that made me realize I keep ditching dudes.

But…why? Why do I end things when they start to feel comfortable and good? Why do I typically wait too long to end things until it’s a little serious instead of doing it after the first or second date?

I wait until there’s a sweet spot. Random Homeboy meets me and thinks I’m the bee’s knees. I’m not a fan of the “get to know you” phase but there is no denying a thrill in the possibilities. And the excitement of exploring a new body.

Once that’s over and things morph into a level of comfort, my default mode is to bounce. I find a flaw or something irritating and make up a faux excuse. I don’t even say that I’m not interested because I hate confrontation and I certainly hate hurting their feelings.

Things have been going unbelievably well with Thomas. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve felt seen by a guy. I’m practically making myself overly authentic so he sees all my shitty sides out the gate. He offers patience and understanding. He also offers a damn good time when naked; Thomas vowed to be the best at everything, including sex, and I think he’s succeeded.

I’ve kept him at arm’s reach because I won’t settle down until I have moved out from the house that I live in with the soon-to-be ex-husband. It buys me time.

This past week, a video prompted us to talk in-depth about money. I don’t care if a guy makes a little less than I do. Thomas makes at least 30% less. This isn’t a case of two millionaires with one makes a few million less than another. When bouncing off my thoughts to my friend Jason, he replied “How at 40 is he barely surviving poverty level in Southern California? There’s no excuse.”

I’ve played the Sugar Mama in the past for guys who made less. Or specifically, had nothing. I’ve done my time of paying for all the dinners and weekend getaways. With my divorce, I’m already struggling on a single income.

Thomas isn’t asking for any of that. He’s paid for half of our dates. That’s very politically correct. He would never allow it to skew where I pay for more of our dates out, however, there are only so many free hangouts I can do before I say, “no really, let’s get a drink somewhere, I’m fine paying”.

Anyone who says that dating doesn’t need to be expensive is either under 30 or irrationally idealistic. I’m not in high school where we can hang out in the park all day after grabbing fast food.

Now I get annoyed at his purchase choices since he said he’s saving up to buy a home in a few years. Bro, this is California and you’re temporarily lucky to have a landlord who has no idea he’s undercharging you. Now is the time to save like a motherfucker because if you begin paying typical rent prices, you’ll be fucked on ever getting a chance to save. But that’s cool, go ahead and buy fancy $1500 speakers for your Jeep instead.

It’s Thomas’ money. I’m not marrying the guy. There is no logical reason for me to be annoyed at the purchasing habits of someone I don’t share a bank account with.

But my typical pattern seeps in. My feeling of irritation starts gnawing away at me. Then everything starts to bug me.

Thomas adores his young daughter and sings her praises constantly. Dude, I don’t care. I really don’t. I’m not in a rush to meet her. Unless it’s my kids or those of my friends, I couldn’t care less if she was able to ride her bike to the beach or the cute haircut she got. Sending me pictures of her on a playdate is enough to make the vein in my forehead pop.

His eating habits bug me for someone who wants to lose ten pounds. Thomas doesn’t eat poorly; he’s a foodie. Cooking is a hobby. You can’t make incredibly delicious food for you and your daughter that is also low-calorie. Go ahead, eat that stick of butter, but you’re not going to the gym to burn it off. It’s not that I dislike his body. It’s that I dislike his lack of discipline.

At this point, I’m grabbing at everything that annoys me. I’m annoyed that he’s diabetic; how are we supposed to ever go on long car trips if he has to fucking pee every forty-five minutes? I sure as fuck am not letting him do that on the side of the road every time. I’m annoyed that I have to climb into his stupid fucking Jeep when we drive somewhere. His eagerness to make me happy and dote on me makes me want to shove him far away.

I am now getting angry when he sends me a simple text telling me how excited he is to see me later this week.

This is where I’m stumped. What the fuck is my problem? Why at this stage am I annoyed? Why do I want to bail? Is it part of my Avoidant Attachment style?

Parents who are strict and emotionally distant, do not tolerate the expression of feelings, and expect their child to be independent and tough might raise children with an avoidant attachment style. The child expresses a need for closeness, but instead of receiving it, they perceive that the door is shut in their face. They might also disapprove of and not tolerate any notable display of emotions from their children, regardless of whether it is negative (sadness / fear) or positive (excitement / joy). https://www.attachmentproject.com/blog/avoidant-attachment-style/

Well…fuck. I grew up in an overbearing religious household with a father who drilled Islam down our throats with a mother who was orphaned by age five. There was no show of emotions and the goal was to behave like a compliant robot. But how am I recreating my childhood when Thomas is offering me the complete opposite?

For a relationship to be meaningful and fulfilling, it has to become deep. That’s when you would ‘hit a wall’ when dealing with an avoidant person. As soon as things get serious, dismissive/avoidant individuals are likely to close themselves off. At this point, such people might try to find a reason to end a relationship. They might be highly annoyed by their partner’s behavior, habit, or even physical appearance. Consequently, they start drifting off and distancing themselves from the partner.

I repeat: well…fuck.

Compared to who I was in the past, I’m more emotionally mature. I’m more open with my friends, which took me over forty years to finally feel okay letting those around me in on how I’m doing or feeling instead of slapping on a happy mask.

I’m capable of letting my guard down. I feel like I’d love nothing more than to reach that next level with Thomas. But then a part of me questions my judgment because in the past I was taken advantage of by guys without cash. And I don’t want to be the woman who settles for a nice sweet guy who thinks insurance math is a great career choice while making as much as I did before I was thirty.

Let’s compound all of this with thoughts of an ex-boyfriend who I need to mentally kick to the curb. It’s not helping me gain clarity.

If I end things, will I look back and kick myself for breaking up with a guy who adored me, was good to me, and was great at sex?

Or if I stayed, would I look back and wonder why I thought it was okay to date someone so far out of my socioeconomic class that I’m foregoing the things I want in life because I’d have to pay for both of us or not do anything at all?

Today I swung by a friend’s place and her new dog repeatedly jumped on me. The excited canine scratched the shit out of my legs and it hurt like a mofo.

I text Thomas a picture of my mauled thighs. “Maybe his nails just needed trimming?” he texts back. My blood boils as I furiously type that in the past decade, except for one particular dog, one hundred percent of them have jumped and clawed at me.

He sends me a picture of him and his dog, messaging that he’ll be sure to keep his pet away from me. “Look at that cutie,” he writes. No, Thomas, your dog looks like it was punched in the face during development. My irritation jumps back up at the audacity to think that anyone else would find his dog endearing or adorable; the correct response would be relief that he heard my complaints and offered to keep his mutt away from me.

I’m irrationally bothered by a sweet guy who hasn’t done anything wrong.

I don’t want to bail. But I don’t want to drag this out if all I’m doing is wasting Thomas’ time. This feeling of discomfort is making my skin crawl. It makes me feel out of control. It makes me miss the comfort I had in relationships that did survive past this weird benchmark.

As I wrote previously about my inability to fall in love again courtesy of an ex-boyfriend, I’m kicking the can down the road on this one. I don’t have the answers and now that I’m in the final homestretch of my divorce, I also don’t have the bandwidth to figure it out.

I need David Beckham to kick that can for me to ensure it stays far, far away for now.