Situationships, Detachment, and My Fear of Getting Too Close
Intimacy has always felt like a language I understand, but never quite speak fluently. I’ve never been in a real relationship — not the kind where love feels steady and safe. Instead, I’ve found myself tangled in situationships: connections that burn bright for a moment but never stay long enough to build a home in. They give me just enough to crave more, but not enough to feel secure.
It’s strange — I crave closeness, but I also fear it. I’ve always had this quiet ache for connection, yet when it finally comes, I start to pull away. I tell myself I’m fine with keeping things casual, that I prefer space, that I don’t need anyone. But underneath that independence is a wound that traces back to my adoption — a fear of being abandoned, of being too much to love and too easy to leave.
That fear shows up everywhere. It whispers to me in the middle of soft moments, reminding me not to get too attached. It’s the reason I detach first — emotionally clocking out before someone else has the chance to. It’s my defense mechanism, a way to protect my heart before it even gets bruised.
And here’s the complicated part: I enjoy sex. I enjoy the physical closeness, the way it makes me feel wanted, the rush of warmth and connection — even if just for a moment. But that’s also where it gets hard for me. My experience is limited because I know how easily attachment can sneak in. I fear that one night of vulnerability could turn into a cycle of missing someone who was never really mine. So I keep my distance, convincing myself that emotional detachment is strength, when really, it’s just fear in disguise.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to fully let go — to trust someone enough to see me beyond the physical, to stay even when I’m scared, to love me without conditions.
I’m slowly learning that intimacy isn’t just about sex or labels or validation — it’s about emotional safety. It’s about allowing myself to be seen, messy and unguarded, without flinching at the thought of loss.
Maybe one day, I’ll stop preparing for the ending before the beginning even starts. Maybe I’ll finally believe that closeness doesn’t always come with a cost — that sometimes, love can simply stay.
