Why Do I Keep Falling for Emotionally Unavailable Men?

I know I should stay away but sometimes I can’t control myself

I told myself I wouldn’t text him.

Everything was going great at first. We were having engaging conversations. I really liked him and he was showing signs that he liked me, too.

I was in a comfortable place already. If we stayed there, it would be fun and sexy, even if it never turned into more.

But I didn’t think it would turn to less, not so abruptly anyway.

The cracks were showing soon after we started talking.

I began realizing that our conversations stayed at a really shallow level. They almost never went anywhere deep — not even past the ankles. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that every deeper conversation we had was one I initiated and more or less held up.

He could talk about himself a lot, but I don’t think he cared to know me. He seemed to want to talk to me, to flirt with me, and sometimes to move things further than flirting. But I didn’t feel like he was trying to create a connection with me. He wasn’t interested in having any emotional investment in what we had going.

That became extra clear when he stopped texting me for a couple of days.

When he went silent, I took it as an opportunity to do some soul-searching. I decided that this wasn’t worth it. It’s not what I wanted out of our interactions. I didn’t want to spend my time trying to get to know someone who doesn’t really want to know me. It was such a terrible use of my energy to invest anything into him when he wasn’t investing anything in me.

It was worse than that, really. The way he kept simmering me so he could hit on me whenever he felt like it made me feel bad about myself. It made me question my value, not just because he didn’t have any serious interest in me, but because I kind of put up with it. I stuck around longer than I should have. I kept conversations going even when they made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t stop thinking about him even though it didn’t make me feel good.

So, I decided I was done. I wasn’t going to text him anymore. If he really wanted to get to know me, if he really liked me in any genuine way, he would just have to text me and show that he did.

I felt powerful. I felt strong. I felt like I took charge of the situation and refused to undervalue myself just in the hopes of getting attention from him.

I slept on it and felt even more resolve the next day. I knew I was so much better off without him. Someone who’s so emotionally unavailable can’t give me the things I need and I’m too old and too busy to keep wasting my time on someone like that.

I was done. I was out. I was moving on.

Then he texted.

We didn’t talk much. I was still kind of pissed. He apologized and our conversation ended.

That boring conversation and the half-assed apology that came with it shouldn’t have done anything to me, but it did. It shifted something in me. I started rationalizing everything he said and justifying all of his behavior to myself. All the things that annoyed me about him, all the ways he disappointed me, all the things that pissed me off — I found excuses for all of them.

I also started doubting myself. I questioned what I really wanted. Was an emotional investment, even a small one, actually all that important? Maybe I could live without it. I could probably just focus on the good things about him and ignore the rest. Maybe I could be fine without anything more from him. Maybe it’s better to have the shitty, disappointing version of him than not have him at all.

All the things I said I would do to move on, all the things I told myself were deal-breakers, all the plans I made to stay strong — they were all slowly eroded by my self-doubt.

So, I texted him next. I got things going again. And sure enough, he soon showed that he was still as emotionally unavailable as before.

But I had trouble pulling back. And that’s because his emotional unavailability is part of what pulled me in.

I Have a Pattern and I’m Not Proud of It

This is a pattern I fall into. Not just with him, but with other men as well.

I crave emotional connection. I even need it to feel attracted to someone. But somehow, I keep finding myself attracted to men who are least willing or least equipped to give it to me.

I don’t mean men who aren’t interested in me — there are plenty of them, of course, and that’s fine.

I mean emotionally unavailable men. The ones who aren’t genuinely interested in me but are happy to pretend they are so they can get something out of me — sex, validation, attention, and who knows what else.

They can play-act like they’re into me for more than just one thing, but after interacting with them for a few days, you can tell they’re losing the energy to keep up the charade.

Even when it’s clear to me that I’m dealing with an unavailable guy, though, I can’t just walk away. I always struggle to give them up.

Every time it happens, I tell myself I should know better. I’ve written articles about red flags and the assholes who wave them, about the guys who aren’t into you and are just playing you, and about narcissists and their tactics.

It’s so bad that I would even use those articles against myself. When I got sucked back in, I would tell myself that I know exactly what kind of tactics and mind games these guys use. But instead of telling myself I knew better than to fall for it again, I convinced myself it would mean I wouldn’t fall for it this time. Because I knew exactly what was going on and what they were doing, I could keep getting something from them without getting played. Even though I knew full well that playing the game at all meant I was already being played.

This time, I wanted to understand just what the fuck was going on in my head. Why did I have trouble quitting the kind of men who weren’t giving me what I needed? Why did I keep craving the attention of guys who just make me feel like shit?

It clicked for me when I found an article called Why Women Love & Lust After Unavailable Men by a psychologist named Seth Meyers. There was a paragraph in it that might as well have been my autobiography.

According to Meyers, my behavior is likely due to high levels of insecurity (yep) and low levels of self-esteem (ditto). Because of this, women like me fall into a pattern of lusting after emotionally unavailable men because:

If the unavailable man finally comes around and commits, they’ll — at long last — have proof that they are worthy. Sadly, without such proof, their self-worth is left hanging in the wind. In addition, these women feel that they’ve invested so much and waited so long for the unavailable man to come around that the thought of leaving without any payoff is almost unthinkable.

That hit me right in the gut. If I take an honest look at myself, underneath all my rationalizations, this is exactly what’s happening. If I can get this guy who’s so hard to nail down and so hard to impress to pay attention to me, then clearly that’s a sign that I have some value.

I’ve been doing that for as long as I can remember. It started with the first emotionally unavailable man I was drawn to: my father.

I’ve written a lot about my daddy issues, but that’s because they explain so much of my behavior, and this is no exception.

I had the same pattern with him. My father withheld love and affection. It was really difficult to get any positive attention from him. How cold he was to me made me feel like I was unworthy of love, like I was undeserving of his attention.

Once in a while, I managed to do something to please him. And when I did, he acted like he loved me. I felt an intense swell of pride. I felt like I was worth something. I felt like I had accomplished something good, and that maybe, just maybe, I actually deserved the attention I got from him.

But it was fleeting. He’d go back to his regular ways. I’d go back to feeling worthless. And I’d go back to chasing that high — I tried desperately to win his approval so I could feel good about myself again, even if it wasn’t going to last.

I tied my value to what my father thought of me. Then I grew up and I started tying it to what men thought of me.

When those men are emotionally unavailable, I repeat the same pattern I had with my father. Instead of walking away when they go cold on me, I chase them. I feel desperate to get back to that high I got when they acted like they were into me. I want to get back to feeling good about myself.

I can decide I’m done. I can decide it’s not worth it. But it’s not long before I feel the intense craving for the way they made me feel when things were good. And I pin that feeling to them. Instead of looking for someone who makes me feel that way without all the trash I get from these duds, I obsess over winning their attention and getting them to show interest in me again.

I keep thinking of these emotionally unavailable men as a drug. When I used to get my father’s attention, it felt like I was hit with a surge of dopamine. When an emotionally unavailable man gives me attention, I get the exact same feeling.

And it’s addictive. I fall for these men, but it’s not them that keeps me coming back — it’s their behavioral patterns. It’s the way their abrupt distancing makes me feel. It’s the position it puts me in. And it’s the rush I feel when they come back and take all those negative feelings away.

Their attention is an intermittent reward. It’s sporadic and uncertain. I never know when I’ll get it again or if I’ll ever get it again. And that makes me feel so insecure that I keep trying to hold on to these men even when I start doubting whether I even like them.

(I never liked my father, either. It didn’t stop the pattern.)

No matter how terrible they make me feel, no matter how much I regret coming back to them, I still focus on the times it felt good and I felt good. I feel compelled to get back on their good side, to win their attention again, even though my brain keeps screaming at me to run away.

It’s like I keep telling myself to quit drinking and here I am chugging another bottle of Colt 45.

Breaking the Pattern

I know exactly why I fall for emotionally unavailable men. I know why their unavailability drives me crazy. But just knowing that won’t stop me from repeating my mistakes. It’s like a well-worn groove, and unless I do everything I can to avoid it, I’m just going to fall right into it again.

So, I’m trying to do a few things that will, hopefully, keep me from relapsing on unavailable dudes.

First, I’m trying to build up my sense of self-worth.

All of this ultimately stems from the fact that I don’t feel good about myself, and I’m looking for a person who will make me feel like I’m good enough. So, I need to work on being enough without needing that external validation — or at least, finding healthier sources of it.

I’m doing that by focusing on the other things in my life and deriving validation from them. I’m protecting my work and writing schedule so I can stay productive. I’m working on getting my podcast off the ground (harder than it seems, but I’m getting there). I’m trying to create and nurture a few friendships, too.

I’m also trying to shift my focus when I’m dealing with emotionally unavailable men. When I get involved with a guy like that, I get stuck wondering whether he likes me. But I keep forgetting to ask whether I like him.

That’s the thing with these men: they often fail to impress me. And if they do, it doesn’t last. They’re thoroughly disappointing. But I still find myself trying to impress them. I spend far too much time trying to think of ways to make them like me, or ruminating over what I did to lose their attention.

Next time, I’ll try to change my mindset, even if I need to plaster my bathroom mirror with sticky notes to remind me. I’ll ask what I want and whether I’m getting it. I’ll ask what kind of guy I need and whether he’s the type. I’ll stop trying to impress him and ask myself whether he’s worth impressing in the first place.

I’m going to pay more attention to their actions, too. I excuse a lot of shitty behavior when I’m tangled up with an unavailable guy. I keep telling myself things like, “Oh but he’s so sensitive — he wouldn’t do anything so cold, would he?” or “He’s a very considerate person, so maybe he just said all those low-key mean things because he was too tired or stressed out over work.” But when I look back, I didn’t form the opinion that they were sensitive or considerate because they actually behaved that way toward me. I formed that opinion because they told me they were, or they told stories about themselves that implied they were.

I have to stop taking their word for who they are. I need to stop listening to all the stories they feed me about themselves. I need to take the way they behave toward me as evidence of their character instead of telling myself they’re exceptions to it.

And most importantly, I need to stop following my emotions and start going with the things I know. I need to stop thinking about how I feel in the moment and start asking myself what advice I would give a friend who’s in the same situation. I would tell her to get herself a man who isn’t an overgrown teenager. I would tell her to get herself a man who doesn’t have the emotional vulnerability of a walnut. I would tell her to get herself a man who can do both: initiate sex while still being a decent human being.

I would never tell anyone they should put up with this kind of bullshit, but when I let my insecurities lead, I tell myself I don’t count. I tell myself I’m the one woman who doesn’t deserve any better than this. I need to remind myself that I’m in the same camp as all those other women, not some exiled outsider who has to put up with the shitty men that are too good for them.

Fixing Myself So I Stop Needing a Fix

I can’t stand falling for emotionally unavailable men. I hate that about myself and I’m fucking sick of it.

Every time it happens, I feel embarrassed for myself because I really should know better by now. I’m 32 years old and I’ve had a lot of opportunities to learn my lesson.

I know what I want from a partner and I need to stop going after men who don’t give it to me. I need to stop looking at the first time they made me feel good about myself and trying desperately to relive that moment. I need to pay attention to the way they make me feel the rest of the time and get the fuck out before I’m hooked.

I need to find someone who will actually like me for me, not just pretend they like me so they can get something out of me.

I need to stop going after men who can spend months talking to me but still not bother getting to know me.

I need to go after a guy who’ll like me enough to want to know that I used to work as a preschool teacher and a bartender (not at the same time) and that I used to be a figure skater.

I need to go after a guy who will be interested in knowing that the bulk of my workout routine is hoola hooping to a Spotify playlist I titled “Emma’s JAM Jams” (and yes, there’s a story behind the capital letters, and I want a guy who wants to know that story).

I need to go after a guy who will find out that my purple hair always smells like grape bubblegum because we talk about whatever.

I need to go after a guy who will listen to me enough to know that I can quote The Office like it’s my bible.

I know I deserve that, because it’s something everyone deserves.

I know it because every time I see a woman stuck on an emotionally unavailable man, I think she can do better. We can all do better because no one deserves to be played like that.

And I know that, ultimately, I’m the one who needs fixing. I know this is a pattern I fall into. I know I get sucked back in and even move things forward. I know how I respond to emotionally unavailable men and I know it’s really fucking unhealthy.

There’s no way for me to avoid these guys entirely — seriously, they’re fucking everywhere. So, I need to do better. I need to work on myself. I need to remind myself that I’m worth more than this. I need to give myself a bunch of cheesy bathroom mirror pep talks because I’m liable to forget all of this as soon as a guy comes in hot (even if it’s fake).

And maybe if I keep working at it, the next time a guy makes me question whether I’m good enough, I’ll realize it’s because he’s not good enough for me.

Let’s keep in touch! Sign up for my weekly newsletter (I won’t send you anything without your enthusiastic consent!)

❤ If you liked this post, you might also love: