how to end a connection before it's even begun
a step by step guide
Wait until it's long past dusk, and you're in each other's arms, satiated not only by the food but by the hours of meaningless conversation that now feel paramount to both your lives. There's music, of course, and you've cancelled any prior plans because leaving now would feel like a harsh end to a faithful beginning. Warmth envelops you as you sink into each other’s highs. Shallow breaths hitch at the faintest touch. Yet, the comfort feels almost unbearable. It smothers you in its haven, lulling you into a sedative wake until your mind can muster a thought sharp enough to pierce the veil. So you start to question their reasoning, wondering what compels them to lie in this moment with you. There must be something they're missing, something you see in yourself that they can't. It feels too good to be true, and you are not worthy. You believe that. No, you don't—not in any concrete way—but you need them to confirm that they don't either, that there's something they are seeing that you can't.
The concern is palpable and it begs the question: What is it that they see in you ? You’d rather not ask, but it sits in your chest like a rugged stone, and no amount of deep breathes or timely distractions will dislodge it.
Watch them fumble. Inviting introspection into this moment feels like breaking a cardinal rule. Logic and reasoning have no place here, where the only thing between you is possibility. It's early—too early for this to mean anything—yet you crave the answer all the same. They'll give you one, something light, vague enough to appease the desperation. But very rarely will it be enough to satisfy you, to validate you. It was better before. You’d rather the inconclusive than the definitive. If only your could give yourself that one night. If only you could rest.
But giving yourself this night would require something more—something beyond just closing your eyes and accepting the good. You would have to be vulnerable, completely open to whatever the night has in store for you. This has never come naturally to you: surrendering feels like defeat, as if you're looking misfortune right in the eye and asking it to hit you round the head with a dose of bad luck. What if it’s too good to be true? What if they only need you, or worse, want you for just this night, and they don’t feel nearly as much as you do? Perhaps you’re so unused to this feeling that, in coveting it, you’ve transformed it into something it’s not. That’s why you have to ask. You may not trust them, or yourself, entirely, but at least if they tell you otherwise, you have something to cling to. If they look you in the eye and say that this endless stream of tiresome thoughts and baseless rumors are entirely unfounded, that’s something real to remember—something concrete that both of you heard, not just the inner ramblings of an anxious lover.
Oh, but doesn’t it reek of desperation to look up at them and ask? You may be in need, but that doesn’t mean your ego is ready to take a back seat. You tell yourself you would hate to look like—feel like—a beggar. It’s bad enough that you’re viewing yourself in this light, but inviting them into it feels like a step too far, a step taken too early. And wouldn’t that ruin the vibe? Wouldn’t that pull both of you out of this precious moment you’re sharing ? Your mind might wander elsewhere, but that doesn’t mean you get to drag theirs with you. Suddenly, it’s not about the night or how much you’re enjoying each other’s company—the way it feels to be seen and heard, not just in passing, but always—it’s about you and your need. You may want reassurance, but do you want the attention that comes with it ?
It’s not clear yet—no one has deemed it fit to show you—but doing so might actually be what improves the night (if that’s even possible). Yes, you feel out of your depth. It seems like you have no control in these situations. At least when things are going bad, you know what to do. You’ve been in that headspace for so many years that it can’t help but be well-rehearsed. You know how to leave with grace—it may hurt, but at least it’s something you know. Here, when things are easy, you have no playbook, and this impromptu improvisation feels like a sudden launch into the deep end. And so maybe it’s the lack of control that drives this need for validation, because up until now the self esteem was shaping out to be ok. If you’re going to embark on something new, break the pattern, it might as well be for something you’re sure off. Well, at least as sure as you can be in these situations.
But let’s, just for fun, pretend you do ask—and this time, they’re ready for you. Wouldn’t that be a lovely surprise? Now there’s something real to talk about, and now you can truly get to know each other. The ideas of each other you’ve conjured up throughout the night—shallow husks loosely based on your assumptions—suddenly begin to gain weight, substantiated by the authenticity behind the initial attraction and clumsy coincidences. And like a small but determined shoot after winter’s bitter reign, trust blooms from the deep, its roots anchored in both of you. Thoughts of defeat or insecurity, which once threatened to consume you, now feel like a short stumble many steps ago. At some point in the conversation, you’ll realize how kindred you are, that you are not alone in your ruminating. Fortunately or unfortunately, we are only privy to our own monotonous tangents, but it would be naive to think we were the only poor souls subjected to that fate. So while you sat there thinking, it wasn’t as if they were so entranced by the scene that they weren’t thinking too. You couldn’t hear each other before, but now you do—and everything is better for it.
More often than not, that only happens if one of you is brave enough to ask—to unbridle yourself from a wounded ego with the power to derail true connection. Otherwise, the night might end, and you go home without the validation you seek or the comfort of knowing you both understand what’s at stake. Remember when Peter Pan lost his shadow, and it ran around wreaking havoc in mischievous fits? That’s how I envision the ego—dancing around our minds, digging holes in concrete plans and leaving trails of doubt instead of hope. You may be cut from the same cloth, but you’re working antagonistically at best. It’s not until you find the strength to prioritize your wants and needs, no matter how scary or new, that you begin to see the benefit of working together. It may be rough—I don’t imagine Peter enjoyed Wendy hand stitching his shadow back to himself—but the advantages are more than worth the reward.
Most times, we don’t see the strength within us to try. As a result, we never ask the difficult questions. In moments like this, I wish we could harness the skill of foresight—if only its effects could dissuade us from the dire consequences our shadow convinces us will follow if we dare to be honest with ourselves. If only we could center vulnerability and compassion instead of faux stability.
Along the way, we’ve been convinced that connection comes easily, born of coincidence and perfect timing. In part, perhaps at the beginning, that’s true. But connection, like anything alive, needs sustaining. Otherwise, we do what we always do: sit in uncertainty.
That is until the weight of our own stress feels too heavy to share. By then, the connection has faded into the background. We didn’t give it enough to survive on, so it wilted quicker than it took to grow. That vibrant warmth that held the two of you seeps back into the earth, vibrant colors dulling with every fallen leaf. Another one gone, until you look back and ponder the different paths not taken. What if we made the necessary sacrifices—I’m looking at you, ego—that could have kept it alive?
Hope you guys enjoyed this week’s essay, cause I loved writing it. It’s a bit different to my normal style of essays but once I started writing I couldn’t stop. I guess you could consider last week’s essay ‘it’s only human to care’ the companion essay to this one as they’re both born from similar lines of thinking. So if you want to read some more of my thoughts on this I would start there.
Don’t forget I have started the Dear X series where you can email in your writing prompts / queries and I'll write a letter to you in response. (all anonymous of course). Think of it as a literary agony aunt. If you want to participate email me using onyiverse@substack.com
See you next week 🪐💜
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desperately searching for a way to say this was the most relatable thing I've read in a while, for a way to say thank you for writing this, I felt this in my soul.