I (33F) was in a relationship with my ex (30M). In the beginning, he was caring, emotional, and a good friend. He was younger than me and had just come out of a traumatic three-year relationship. From the start, I felt anxious. I knew he had loved his ex deeply—we both used to post on the same social media platforms for years, and I had read about the dynamics of their relationship.

Eventually, they broke up. Two years later, he started dating me. I was a bit spooked by how emotional he still seemed about his ex, and I was afraid I was just a rebound. So I tried not to get too attached at first—he was just a good friend. But over time, I fell in love with him. We chatted constantly throughout the day. Within a year, he became a significant part of my life.

We both carried emotional scars from past relationships. I had trust issues after being in a toxic relationship with a narcissist who destroyed my self-esteem for years. His ex was a self-centered, controlling woman who played with his emotions. After their breakup, he developed severe stomachaches, which sometimes made him distant. I felt intimidated by his ex—I knew she had been his “dream girl.” I wasn’t like her. I didn’t fit his usual type: tall, slender, bossy, and highly self-confident. (He never explicitly said this, but I observed he dated beautiful, confident women.) That made me insecure. I even told him a few times that he wasn’t my type either, that I usually dated colleagues or people with shared interests. He told me he didn’t have a type and that he was interested in my personality.

The only real problem early on was sex. It was a disaster—mostly because of me. We tried a few times, but it didn’t work. His penis was quite large, and I was too tight—I’d only had one partner before. I was scared and utterly embarrassed about my lack of experience. I also insisted on using condoms because I was afraid of getting pregnant. He was a little annoyed and said, “I had two long-term partners, and neither got pregnant.” At first, we tried using a standard condom, but it didn’t fit. He said, “I’m not used to it,” and couldn’t perform.

Still, he offered cunnilingus, which I appreciated. Then he asked for anal sex. I had never done it before and didn’t like the idea, but because I loved him, I agreed. I didn’t enjoy it at all—it was one of the worst minutes of my life. He liked to dominate during sex—spanking, grabbing me by the throat, etc.—which wasn’t what I enjoyed. But I said nothing. I even went to the drugstore and bought XXL condoms myself because he wouldn’t make the effort. That disappointed me, but again, I didn’t say anything. This time he finally put it on. We tried penetration again, but I was too tense. He asked for anal again, and I gave in. But during sex, I felt like just an object for his pleasure, while I needed to feel loved. I wanted to express that but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

The fourth time I invited him over, I tried to be as relaxed as possible. He started with cunnilingus, but I was under a lot of stress that week and asked him to stop. I suggested cowgirl—the only position I enjoy—but he didn’t like it and turned me over again. I stopped him and told him I didn’t want anal anymore. He got angry: “First you make me wear a condom, then I try doggy style, not anal, and you don’t want that either.” He jumped out of bed, got dressed, and ignored me when I asked what was wrong. He went out to smoke. Fifteen minutes later, I asked him to come back to bed. He said, “We can’t do it anymore today. These things affect a man’s psyche too much.” I told him that if I didn’t want to be intimate, I wouldn’t have invited him over. He said he’d “lost the drive.” Eventually, we fell asleep.

I wanted to try again in two weeks, but he refused, saying his stomach hurt too much. That was true—he had lost his job and was very anxious. There were no sex attempts for three weeks.

Two weeks later, we had another argument. I asked him to attend an important meeting for me because I wasn’t in the country. He refused. He sent a long text saying it would devastate him to go to church (where the meeting was held) early in the morning, and that it made him uncomfortable. I was angry and replied coldly: “Good to know I can’t rely on anyone in my life.”

The next day, he contacted me and asked how I was. I was still angry and distant. But we talked for hours. In the evening, we talked again about our day. At the end, I told him our relationship felt strange—no plans for the future, no intention to meet each other’s families, and I didn’t know where we were going. He responded with a long text saying it was too early for future plans and that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to move away from his parents (he’s an only son) or leave the country with me (which I planned to do). He said he hated not helping but couldn’t go to the meeting, and that I shouldn’t have asked because I knew it made him uncomfortable. He said he’d never ask me to do something outside of my comfort zone.

I took it very emotionally. I told him I didn’t want to waste time on a meaningless relationship. He replied, “Then let’s break up.” I said, “OK.”

Two weeks later, I contacted him. I said I missed him, that I was sorry, and grateful for the good times. I told him I wanted him back. He said I didn’t listen, and that it was always about me. That he often felt undervalued. In the end, he said he didn’t have the energy to be in a relationship. We parted on good terms—though I was still heartbroken.

A month later, he made a joke about anal sex in our shared forum. It stung. Then he asked another female user for advice about love and cheating: “It’s possible for a man to love one woman and want another. That happens—you love someone, but eventually, you lose passion.” That hurt even more. I lost it and replied to the thread: “This is what happens when you fall in love with an image, not a real person.” I implied that when there’s no alignment in core values, this is the result, and that sapiosexuals (like me) should date other sapiosexuals. He didn’t respond.

Later, I wrote similar things in other threads on the forum. That breakups heal faster when there were no shared plans or values. I joked about his political views too—like how someone with critical thinking skills could support authoritarian regimes. I also wrote that I broke up with my ex partly due to political differences (which was partly true—we argued often). He was nihilistic and sometimes leaned right-wing, while I’m a liberal. Soon after, he replied: “Once a biomass, always a biomass.” I didn’t respond, but it cut deep.

This week, I posted a list of “bitter lessons I learned from the past relationship”:

1. Don’t start something you know is doomed from the beginning.

2. When a man loves you, he cherishes you and meets your family.

3. He makes plans about your future.

4. When there are no shared interests, his hobbies are “boring as fuck.”

5. You’ll always love your first partner until you find someone better.

And I flirted online with other guys, knowing he’d see it.

It had been over five months since the breakup, and I was curious if he still had feelings for me. His reaction was abrupt—facepalms and LOLs. He laughed at my other posts too.

Today, I got really pissed and wrote a sincere letter full of emotions. I started by saying that I loved him and trusted him, he used to be my friend. And reminded him that he started this “beef” after the anal sex joke. I was vulnerable and admitted his behavior still affected me. I ended it harshly: “I won't wish you well. Just try not to die alone.”

He replied soon after, saying the joke wasn’t about me—it was an inside joke with his friends. He said not everything in the universe revolves around me. That I was the one who shitposted about my ex. That I wasn’t his inspiration—“if you had been, I’d have told you.” And when he ends a relationship, he doesn’t go back or overthink it. Especially when it ended “on good terms, with zero emotional baggage for him.”

I am devastated but said nothing. I just cried myself to sleep. Everything in my life is going downhill right now. I have lost my job, have limited funds, and chronic health issues.

Later today, he posted in a relationship advice thread: “Women try to manipulate men, and only those with high emotional intelligence don’t fall for their games.”

I want to respond for a second, but I just realized we are both too fucked up—too damaged by trauma and insecurity to maintain a healthy relationship. Still, I feel like I messed up something that mattered a lot for me. I still love and hate him at the same time. Am I the asshole for hijacking my relationship?