I ended it with someone I loved. He was my best friend. Did I make the right call?

I need some grounded perspective from women who’ve been through love, heartbreak, and hard decisions.

I (32F) ended things with someone I loved deeply (45M)—my best friend of several years. For the last nine months, we spent nearly every weekend and every spare moment together. Our connection slowly evolved from friendship into something romantic and intimate. I genuinely thought we were building something safe and real.

He knew my history. He knew I’d been sexually assaulted. He knew I’d survived abusive relationships—where I was controlled, silenced, and terrified. He also knew, because we’d spoken in detail, that I had insecurities about my body. I was open and honest with him about those things. I trusted him. I opened myself emotionally and physically in the hope of something meaningful. What followed left me shaken.

The first time I tried to take his shirt off, he snapped—“No.” It wasn’t just a boundary—it was cold, abrupt, and confusing. I had no idea there was a boundary there—he had never mentioned it, not once. Later, I learned he has a physical deformity and had never taken his shirt off in front of a partner, ever in his life. When he eventually told me, I didn’t judge him. I comforted him. I gave him space. I held him.

But in that moment, I was stunned and shut down. When he tried to take my pants off and I paused (because I was nervous and insecure about my body—again, something he knew), he snapped again: “Can you just let me do what I want to do?” It felt invasive and dismissive. I pulled back, hoping we’d talk and reconnect—but that moment never came.

When we finally had sex, he didn’t look at me. There was no check-in. No emotional presence. Just instructions. He told me—flatly—to get on all fours. I asked if we could change positions, trying to feel some kind of connection, and again he said “No.” Then he said he was about to come, and he did. He left the room. I got dressed in silence.

That was the first time he was inside of me—and I didn’t even see his face.

I tried to move past it. I kept reaching out. I reminded him I was willing to work through it. I leaned in, hoping we could rebuild something meaningful. But he never brought it up. Never checked in. Never asked if I was okay. Never acknowledged what had happened.

When I finally told him how deeply it affected me, he said he was depressed. That I “berated” him. That he was miserable. He made it about his shame instead of my pain—and then he disappeared. He called it a “miscommunication,” but never once asked me what he’d done wrong or what I needed.

He said he wanted to make amends—but then told me he had no idea what to do. I asked if he’d talked to anyone—his sisters, his best mate—for guidance or support. He said no, that it “wasn’t the right time” to ask for help. I told him clearly: I don’t want to be with you unless you make this right. And that was the last real conversation we had.

He later claimed we were “incompatible” and that he “never wanted a relationship.” But none of that was said when he was spending every weekend together, texting me every morning and night, and holding me like I was everything. That inconsistency is what hurts the most.

He left. Took no accountability. Made no effort to repair. And now he’s on the other side of the world, acting like none of it ever happened.

I loved him. I stood up for myself. And he vanished.

I’m grieving the loss of someone I trusted deeply, but I’m also trying to trust myself—that asking for emotional safety, tenderness, and accountability wasn’t too much.

Did I do the right thing?

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TL;DR:
I ended things with someone I loved deeply—my best friend of several years—after a painful and emotionally disconnected first sexual experience. He barked at me to get on all fours, refused eye contact, and left the room after he finished. I felt erased. We’d previously talked about my insecurities, and he knew how vulnerable I was. He also had his own insecurities—he had never taken his shirt off with a partner due to a deformity, something I didn’t know until later. When he did share it, I held him with love and support. I tried to work through everything, but he never acknowledged the harm or sought help. When I said I couldn’t be with him unless he made things right, he disappeared. Did I make the right call?