This Is What Loving an Avoidant Looks Like on a Monday

At 9pm, he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed. Too hot, he said. Fair enough, it was hot.

Then, I ignored him. At 1am I walked into his room, killed the TV, and hugged him. He was out in 30 seconds. He pretzel-hugged me until morning.

Last week, he sent me 4k for a vet bill without blinking. No argument, no conditions. Just a few taps on his phone. And hasn’t brought it up since, hasn’t held it against me. He could have said I was bad with money. He could have said it was a loan. He could have done nothing and let me manage as I see fit. And yet he simply chose to show up with no strings attached.

He’s also been giving me death stares for the past two weeks.

This is what loving an avoidant looks like. It’s not romantic a lot of the time, it’s messy and comes with a love tax. When everything is trying to kill him — the UK is going through yet another heatwave, and the trees and grass pollen are setting off his allergies- he shows up the only way he can.

People talk about avoidants like they’re a problem to solve. Like if you just read the right book or ask the right question at the right moment, they’ll crack open and become emotionally available.

The attachment styles (read some of Dr Gottman books) are a good start; they are a picture of a door. In real life, you have to find the door, find the right key, unlock it and walk through it. Not the same as a picture for sure.

In real life, love is when he cooks us a roast dinner in a heatwave, and I do the dishes while the TV runs in the background. There’s no conversation, no explanation, just small acts of care.

The 4k is I see you. The meal is I’m still here. The pretzel hug at 1am is don’t go.

The death stare is I’m overwhelmed and I have no words for it and I’m sorry but also I can’t help it.

None of this is easy to live with. It’s an extra tax payable in patience, loving someone from a distance so you don’t overload a nervous system that’s already running hot.

Some weeks, the tax is low — a coffee in bed when he wakes up. Some weeks, it’s midnight conversations with AI asking “Am I insane?” and playing “he loves me, he loves me not”.

A relationship doesn’t fail because it’s hard. It doesn’t fail because someone gives death stares or struggles to say the thing out loud or needs the TV killed before they can sleep.

It fails when someone checks out. When the meals stop getting cooked at all. When the 4k becomes a conversation about whether you deserve it. When you stop walking into the room, because it’s a lot easier not to.

We’re both tired. Neither of us is sleeping properly. The to-do list is not getting shorter; actually, it’s growing pretty fast. However, what matters is that we still share the kitchen duties, the dog walks, and the love at 1am. We show up. As the meme goes: ‘Divorce? Never. Murder? Now, that’s an everyday thought.’

That’s not a failure. That’s two people not quitting on each other during a hot season. For me, that’s enough.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.