I woke up today, and something had shifted.  

For months, I held onto some lingering attachment to Mark—whether it was nostalgia, habit, or the remnants of love I once felt for him. But now? Now, I feel disgust. 

I don’t say this with bitterness or anger. It’s not even an emotional reaction anymore. It’s just clarity. A deep, visceral understanding of who he really is—who he has always been—and how I ignored the red flags that were right in front of me. 

And let me tell you, the clarity is nauseating.  

Emotional Avoidance is a Disease 

One of the most infuriating things about Mark is his complete inability to engage in any conversation that requires vulnerability. Everything was always kept at surface level—his thoughts, his emotions, his dreams (if he even had any). There was never any real depth, no true intimacy. He never let me in because he was too emotionally stunted to even know himself, let alone share himself with another person.  

And I tolerated it. For too long.  

For a while, I told myself he was just “wired differently,” that he was just more reserved, that maybe he would open up with time. But emotional avoidance isn’t just a personality quirk. It’s a disease. It infects relationships, festers into resentment, and creates a slow, numbing death of connection. And Mark was drowning in it.  

Porn Addiction: The Ultimate Cop-Out  

I used to feel sad about Mark’s porn addiction. I used to wonder if he was ashamed of it, if deep down, he wanted to change. But he didn’t. Because changing would have required effort, self-awareness, and accountability, and Mark doesn’t do any of those things.  

Porn was his escape. His excuse to never engage deeply with a real woman. His way of avoiding intimacy while pretending he was still getting his “needs met.” And you know what? It’s pathetic.  

Porn addiction is like junk food for the soul—it gives an illusion of satisfaction, but it leaves a person empty, disconnected, and unfulfilled. And yet, instead of fixing the problem, instead of working on his ability to connect with a real human being, he chose the easy way out.  

At best, I pity him. At worst, I feel repulsed.  

The Liberation of Seeing Clearly

I think back to how much I agonized over Mark. How much I tried to make things work. How much I tried to understand him, to reach him, to make him feel safe enough to open up to me.  

And for what?  

For a man who never had the capacity to meet me where I was? For someone who was content with a lifeless, surface-level existence while I craved depth, passion, and meaning?  

It’s almost laughable now.  

I can feel myself detaching more and more each day. What was once sadness has turned into indifference. What was once longing has turned into revulsion. I see him for what he is now—a man who never had the emotional depth, the courage, or the self-awareness to be the kind of partner I need.  

And that’s not my loss. That’s his.  

A New Chapter Without Regret  

This isn’t just about Mark. This is about me. About recognizing my own patterns, about honoring what I truly need in a partner, and about never again tolerating a man who is incapable of real connection.  

Because I deserve more. I deserve someone who shows up emotionally, who communicates, who values real intimacy. Someone who has done the work, who has the emotional bandwidth to truly love and be loved.  

Mark never had that. And he never will.  

But I will. Because I’m done settling for men who can’t meet me where I am.