"I am so over this fucking classic idiot bullshit! Every time he touches you in a sex-way, he’s doing it for one reason and you’re doing it for another, which means that he’s not just fucking you; he’s also tearing off a raggedy, bloody corner of your heart/soul/whatever. Does “he’s just not that into you” not translate into whatever anti-logic, non-adult language you speak? Also, when he says, “No, you’re not,” he means, “Seriously, stop fucking me. Immediately.”
Actually, I know it doesn’t translate. Like you, I have been hypnotized by dudes whose appeal lies mostly (entirely?) in the fact that they do not want a relationship. My twenties were about being unconvinced that nice guys who liked me were owed as much time and attention as the ones who forgot how to call, how to spell my name, and how to proffer as many orgasms as they accepted.
Here is the problem you actually have: you’re being a shit to yourself—which you already know, but me telling you to locate your self-respect is kind of useless until you grow into it—and you’re being a shit to Girl Nation, which needs you to end the cycle of giving the least-deserving guys all of the pussy. And, yes, you’re also being a shit to the citizens of Bad, User-y Guy Nation who have less and less motivation to stop being emotion-vampires and to date you properly.
Unfollow, hide and delete him. When you do see him, all he gets from your babe-face is a tight nod. One of two things will happen: he will barely notice, because he doesn’t like you, or his penis will be like “???” and he’ll eventually make some grand gesture, or what passes for a grand gesture in Bad, User-y Guy Nation, like a daytime phone call. Replace him with something else: lez out, find a dorky sweetheart or just get really into some far-from-him hobby, like backcountry camping.
You will, eventually, stop liking him. Because, eventually, a person who doesn’t like you will become unattractive. And, more importantly, you’ll stop liking the version of yourself who acts like such an embarrassing dummy."
Thanks, as always, to Ms. Carraway for this heaping slice of truth.