I recently told someone that I liked her.

She was someone I felt emotionally safe with—one of the few people in my life where I didn’t feel judged or guarded. Our conversations were open, thoughtful, present. I didn’t feel like I had to shrink, mask, or second-guess every word.

And because that kind of emotional safety is so rare, my system started to wonder:

“Could this be something more?”

I wasn’t even sure if I was physically attracted to her.
But I wanted to explore the possibility—because it felt rare to feel that safe with anyone.

Her Response

She told me she didn’t really have time or capacity to connect more deeply with people right now. She was still recovering from something personal, and I respect that.

But it also felt like a kind and indirect way of saying:

“This isn’t something I want to pursue.”

And that’s okay.

What’s surfaced for me since hasn’t been about rejection.
It’s been about the complexity of these emotional dynamics, and how easily I get pulled into them—even when I’m unsure what I really want.

What I Was Actually Missing

I realise now, I wasn’t necessarily longing for her.
I was longing for that feeling of emotional safety. The rare experience of being with someone who:

  • Listens without judgement,
  • Offers presence without pressure,
  • And allows me to show up without needing to explain or defend myself.

And it hurt when that space disappeared.

Was I Chosen Because I Was “Safe”?

There’s a part of me that wonders:

“Was I emotionally available enough to be useful, but never quite compelling enough to be chosen?”

Maybe I was seen as:

  • A good listener.
  • An emotional offload.
  • A non-threatening presence who wouldn’t make things awkward.

And when I expressed interest, that dynamic broke.

Suddenly, I was no longer safe to be open with—because I’d complicated it.
But to me, I was just trying to understand whether that safety could become something more.

The Height Thing

She was taller than me. About 5’10”. I’m 5’8”. It didn’t matter to me, but I think it mattered to her.

Maybe that was part of the unspoken barrier—maybe not.
But I sense that being physically smaller made me feel like less of a threat, which might’ve allowed the emotional dynamic to happen in the first place.

Again, that’s not blame.
Just observation.

The Complexity of These Dynamics

I find these kinds of relationships exhausting.

  • I think about them constantly.
  • I miss social cues—good and bad.
  • I don’t know whether I want connection or solitude most of the time.
  • And I can’t always tell whether I’m being “too much” or not enough.

It often feels easier not to engage at all, because the emotional energy it takes to navigate these spaces—without clarity or mutual effort—is draining.

Am I the One Who Feels Unsafe?

Sometimes I wonder if I make women feel unsafe—not intentionally, but maybe because:

  • I overthink.
  • I over-offer emotional support.
  • I don’t always know what I want.
  • Or maybe I come across as too anxious, too intense, too inconsistent.

And then I spiral:

“Am I an anxious attacher?”
“Is it trauma?”
“Is it just how I’m wired?”

Neurodivergence, Spiralling, and Awareness

It hit me recently that a lot of my emotional over-analysis might not just be trauma.
It might be how my brain naturally works.

  • I notice too much.
  • I think too deeply.
  • I revisit everything, trying to understand what was missed.
  • I struggle to rest in ambiguity without spiralling.

When I’m in an upward spiral, this overthinking is introspective and useful.
When I’m in a downward spiral, it’s overwhelming and anxiety-inducing.

And it’s hard to explain to people who don’t think this way—especially in dating or friendships—because it looks like neediness or overinvestment.
But really, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening so I can stay safe.

What I Know Now

She wasn’t available—not emotionally, not relationally.
And I can’t keep trying to build meaningful connection with people who don’t have the time or willingness to meet me there.

I also need to recognise when I’m:

  • Over-extending emotionally without boundaries,
  • Accepting “almost” relationships that drain me,
  • Or turning someone else’s moment of presence into a promise that was never made.

And most importantly:

I deserve someone who offers me emotional safety because they want to build something with me, not because they’re using me as a temporary place to land.

I’ll Keep Showing Up Honestly

I don’t regret saying I liked her.
I don’t regret how I showed up.

But I’ve learned that emotional safety isn’t enough if it isn’t mutual, sustained, and chosen.
I want more than to be a safe place for others to rest—I want someone who will rest beside me.

And next time, I’ll try to stay a little more present with myself before offering so much of it to someone else.