TL;DR: I dated a guy who had just moved to my city after ending a serious relationship. We started casually but became more serious despite early trust issues and boundary problems. He’d often pull away or seek “freedom” to explore his sexuality, claiming he needed to experience life as a gay man after being closeted and in long-term relationships. We officially committed, but ongoing breaches of trust and miscommunications strained us. He broke up with me abruptly during a trip, moved out immediately, and left me heartbroken. Months later, he tried to rekindle things, saying he’d grown from experiencing the gay scene and hooking up with five people. I told him I’m not a second choice and won’t accept being hurt repeatedly. Now, he wants to fly across the world to talk, but I don’t think I can see him the same way anymore.
I started dating this guy two years ago. We met shortly after he moved to my city—just his second week there. We connected through a dating app where he had “Looking for a relationship” selected, so I assumed we were on the same page. As he settled into the city, we began going out regularly. He had recently ended a serious relationship—one where he was supposed to move abroad with his ex but chose to break things off and move alone. I knew the decision shattered his ex’s heart.
Despite that, things between us felt promising. We spent time together exploring the city and getting closer. It quickly became more than friendship; we were getting intimate and building something, or so I thought. One day, he mentioned he was just looking for friends since he’d just moved. I respected that, telling him that if it was friendship, we should avoid anything romantic. But we couldn’t keep our distance. We kept gravitating toward each other.
About three months in, things started feeling serious. Then, suddenly, he asked me for a four-week break out of the blue. I agreed painfully, but the next morning, he messaged me saying he couldn’t go through with it. The same week, he came to me saying he was attending a concert and wanted a “night off” to experience things with other people. That conversation was crushing.
I told him I wanted something serious and monogamous, but I also understood that he’d come out later in life and had limited same-sex experiences. Reluctantly, I agreed. He ended up kissing someone at that concert. While he was away, I kissed someone else, almost out of spite—trying to balance things out. It was petty, but I own that mistake.
Not long after, we had another bad moment. We weren’t officially together yet, and he went out with friends one night, not replying to my messages. Coincidentally, I ran into him at a bar where I was with friends, only to see him happily holding onto a friend’s shoulder. Then, one of his friends kissed him on the cheek. It felt like a betrayal, and we ended up having a huge argument.
Despite the complications, he came to me weeks later saying he was madly in love, ready to commit, and wanted us to be official. I agreed, and things became more formal. He moved into my apartment a few months later, we spent Christmas with his family, and our relationship progressed.
But we always had issues with trust. The way things started made me question him constantly. I tried explaining what healthy boundaries looked like to me and what I needed for our relationship to flow.
About a year into dating, I took a trip, and while I was away, he went out clubbing with a married friend. When I expressed concern—since he’d never come back at 5 AM before—he brushed it off, saying the friend was married and there was nothing to worry about.
When I returned, I confronted him and asked to see his phone. I found messages from the other guy asking, “Are we going to be friends or lovers? Time will tell.” My ex had replied, “Friends.” I couldn’t prove what happened that night, but the implication was there. It was another betrayal, and I chose to forgive him, though trust continued to erode.
For context, I was juggling a master’s degree, a demanding full-time job I didn’t enjoy, and dealing with health issues. He had his own family issues, work dissatisfaction, etc.
Five months ago, we went on a trip, and as all these issues were happening, the trust was thin as ice, and I could not trust him anymore. He would stare at other guys and I would feel very awkward about it. He then broke up with me on that trip. The very next day, he booked an Airbnb, claiming it would make things “less painful” and that it had to be quick. He flew back to our city ahead of me, moved all his things out of our apartment, and even changed my flight so we wouldn’t travel together. I came back to an empty apartment with only flowers left behind, like some cruel afterthought.
We were supposed to move to his home country together, so I had to change all my plans and tell my job I was staying. It was a life-altering shift with no warning. He did express 3-4 times about being unsure about the move, he always said, “I am unsure you will like my home country. what if you don’t?”.
While I was shattered, he was out partying within weeks, I knew he was suffering too, but coping differently and traveling with friends, and adjusting to his new single life. I chose not to date or even go on apps for some time; I just sat with the pain and faced it head-on. It was the worst feeling in the world.
In January, about six weeks after we’d broken up, we tried to have a conversation to see if there was something to salvage. That’s when he told me he’d gone on two dates with someone else. It was a slap in the face. I cut things off, telling him I wasn’t there to be his emotional backup while he figured things out. Why would he reach out to me while being on dating apps and going out? I asked “What are you telling these guys? What are you thinking about?” He suggested staying friends “in the future” and apologized for hurting me and being confusing with his process, but I left that message unanswered.
We had no contact for months until he resurfaced recently, saying he’d spent time “getting to know himself” and catching up with the gay life he had missed out on during all his 20s and early 30s. During those five months, he was with five different people. I asked him this because I wanted to know what working on himself meant. He claimed it was part of figuring out who he was, of catching up on the experiences he never had and knowing what he liked and did not. He said he only had sex with 1 while being intimate with the rest.
Hearing that was like a knife to the heart. While I was processing everything alone, he was out living what he described as his “gay experience.” He insisted he’d grown from it and now understood what he truly wanted—me. He claimed he’d “caught up” and was ready to commit, he was curious about the side of being gay and accepting that it was okay since he had lived in shame for years. I told him he did not need to do that – it wasn’t part of being gay, as I never needed that.
I told him I wasn’t a second choice. I’m not someone you leave behind just to come back when you’ve exhausted other options. I tried to explain that real love isn’t about catching up or ticking off experiences; it’s about choosing someone, every day, no matter what else is out there.
He apologized and said he’d worked on himself, but it’s hard to reconcile his supposed growth with everything he did. Going to parties, sleeping around—it all feels like a big betrayal. He says he wants to fly across the world to talk things out face-to-face. But during our recent call, I stood up for myself and made it clear that he doesn’t get to break me and then come back expecting everything to be fine.
Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he hasn’t. But I can’t see him the same way anymore, and I’m not sure I ever will. I told him you always compromise in life, he chose to leave me and this was the consequence of it.