The Dismissive Avoidant Love Story: Two Possible Endings, Both a Disaster!

Let’s be honest — watching a dismissive avoidant in a relationship is like watching a slow-motion car crash. You can see exactly what’s coming, but you can’t say a word without being accused of “confrontation.” Still, the outcome is always the same: heartbreak, emptiness, and an illusion of connection that never becomes real.

There are only two possible endings for the dismissive avoidant — and both are disasters.

Scenario 1: The Dismissive Avoidant Marries Another Avoidant

At first glance, this pairing looks ok. Two people who “don’t do drama.” They respect each other’s space. They don’t fight. They pride themselves on being “low-maintenance.”

But behind closed doors, the story is far less serene. There’s no emotional depth, no real closeness — just polite coexistence. They orbit each other like strangers, proud of their “independence,” mistaking emotional disconnection for compatibility.

Inevitably, cracks appear. After years of distance, one partner starts craving physical intimacy — not out of love, but out of loneliness. But how do you desire someone you never truly connected with?

This sparks tension: he demands sex as a stand-in for connection, and the partner recoils because there IS no connection. Resentment grows. Frustration becomes the norm.

And the real tragedy? Somewhere in the past, one of them had a chance at real connection — someone warm, loving, emotionally available. But intimacy terrified them. So they chose “safe” instead of “real.” They rejected closeness, and now they live without it. It’s a slow, silent punishment: comfort and security on the surface, but emptiness in every emotional corner.

Scenario 2: The Dismissive Avoidant Marries Someone Who Survives on Emotional Crumbs

Then there’s the other pairing: the avoidant and the one who stays.

This is the person who accepts the coldness, the distance, the constant rejection — and calls it “patience.” The one who explains away emotional neglect as “just how they are.” The one who’s learned to survive on breadcrumbs of affection, mistaking scarcity for devotion.

Here’s the brutal truth: how can a dismissive avoidant respect someone who accepts the unacceptable?

They can’t. The more their partner tolerates emotional starvation, the more contempt grows. At a deep level, the avoidant doesn’t respect what they see as weakness — and dependence feels like weakness. The tragedy is that the one who stays often does so out of love, but to the avoidant, it reads as neediness. And neediness is their cue to retreat even further.

This dynamic ensures that respect, intimacy, and closeness are permanently out of reach. The avoidant may appear calm, even content, but it’s the calm of emotional disconnection. And the partner who stays? They often lose themselves entirely, twisting into shapes just to keep the relationship alive.

The Common Thread: No Real Intimacy, No Real Respect

Both scenarios are loveless in different ways. One is silent and detached; the other, quietly humiliating. Neither builds the foundation of mutual respect, safety, or emotional closeness that real love requires.

At the root of all this chaos is unhealed trauma. Dismissive avoidants learned early that emotional closeness equals danger — maybe their caregivers were cold, critical, or unavailable. So they built a wall around their feelings and called it independence.

But it’s not independence; it’s fear in disguise. Fear of needing someone. Fear of being needed. Fear of being truly known.

And unless they face those childhood wounds — through therapy, introspection, or sheer emotional courage — they’ll keep repeating the same lonely shit show.

And Then There’s “The Mug Who Stays”

You know who I’m talking about. The partner who bends, apologises, explains, rationalises. The one who keeps saying, “They’re just not good with emotions,” while dying a little inside.

That person doesn’t need more empathy — they need self-respect. They need to stop mistaking crumbs for a feast and remember that love is supposed to nourish, not drain.

Sometimes growth means walking away. Sometimes love means choosing yourself.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard to watch people you care about stuck in these loops — two avoidants pretending not to feel, or one avoidant partnered with someone who’s forgotten what they deserve. You see the problem so clearly, but you can’t say a thing.

So you sit there, silently thinking: “All four of you need therapy — three for fear of intimacy, and one to grow a backbone.”

It’s harsh. But it’s true.

Because until the avoidant learns to face the terror of being known, and the “mug who stays” learns that love without respect isn’t love at all — both are just surviving, in a disastrous unhealed dynamic.

And all the while the discarded one - the one with emotional intelligence and the ability to hold REAL love and connection - who did ALL the heavy lifting in therapy to work all of this out, quietly sits on the sidelines rolling their eyes. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

There are two options people - go to therapy or stay on the slow ride to hell…

What’s funny is I’m so bored of this now that I couldn’t care less if you do or you don’t 😂😂😂