Why They Discard the Right One And End Up Resentful

At first, the avoidant feels in control.

They pull away from intensity, convincing themselves that emotional chaos equals danger. So when they meet the right one—the one who lights them up, challenges them, sees them—they freak out and run. It’s too much. Too real. Too vulnerable. And most terrifying of all: it feels like home.

They don’t know how to handle that. Not when they’re still living with wounds they haven’t faced.

So they choose safe. The partner who doesn’t activate their insecurities. Who doesn’t push their emotional boundaries. Someone “easier.” More agreeable. More predictable.

But here’s what happens over time…

At first, there’s relief. The waters are calm. No waves. No storms. But eventually, the silence grows too loud:

The connection feels dull.

And the sex? Functional. Polite. Never electric. Never wild or magnetic like it was with the one they pushed away. And the laughter? Barely a chuckle, if it’s even there at all. Because the one they chose doesn’t challenge their walls — they simply exist behind them.

Then the realisation creeps in slowly… and painfully.

“I traded passion for comfort. Intensity for safety. Love for control.”

Memories come flooding back: the way the right one made them laugh without trying. How a single look could light up their entire being. The tension that felt like poetry. The emotional depth that scared them… because it WAS real. Because it exposed them.

But by then, it’s often too late.

Because the one they left behind didn’t sit still. They healed. They cried, they questioned their worth, but they grew. They did the work. They stopped waiting. They stopped hoping. They let go. Because no one waits forever — not even for love.

And now the avoidant is stuck. In a relationship that feels like a slow death. Resentment brews. Not toward their partner, who did nothing wrong — but toward themselves. For choosing fear. For choosing numb. For choosing a partner they never truly chose with their heart.

They scroll through memories. Wonder what could’ve been. Obsess over a face that now belongs to someone else. They wonder, “What if I had stayed?” They question everything. And they realise — not just with the mind, but in the hollow space in their chest — that they lost the person who was right for them.

But the right one doesn’t look back.

They loved deeply, but they loved themselves more in the end.

And that’s when the avoidant fully breaks — not because they can’t go back, but because they finally want to, and it’s no longer an option.

The Moral? Avoidance isn’t protection. It’s self-sabotage dressed as safety. If someone makes you feel deeply, laugh freely, and scares you in all the right ways — don’t run. Lean in. Because that kind of love doesn’t come twice.

TR