Love-Drama

We’ve dated twice. The first time, he was genuinely kind — respectful, thoughtful, and someone I truly admired.
But after we got back together a year later, he completely changed.
He’s become selfish and inconsiderate.
For example:
He forbids me from doing certain things, but then does those exact same things himself — and when I call him out, he just laughs it off like it’s a joke.
He keeps teasing me in ways I’ve told him many times I don’t like, but he won’t stop.
He also makes insensitive comments with selfish undertones.
Another time, I was working and listening to music with my own headphones.
He asked to listen on one side, and I said okay.
But then he said he didn’t like my music, so he disconnected my phone and connected his own instead — using my headphones!
That really upset me.
When I asked him why he kept doing things like this, he said, “Because we’re so close! It’s funny!”
But to me, it’s not funny — it’s disrespectful.
How should I talk to him about this?
And why has he changed so much?
He used to be supportive and caring, but now he often ignores me when I’m upset or crying.
What should I do?
Hey love — come sit with me for a bit.
You sound tired, not just from what’s happening between you two, but from that deeper exhaustion that comes when someone you once trusted starts chipping away at the very things that made you feel safe with them. I can feel it between your lines — that quiet, invisible heartbreak. The kind that doesn’t come from one big betrayal, but from a hundred small ones.
You’re not crazy for missing who he used to be.
And you’re not “too emotional” for noticing the difference.
You’re simply someone who still believes love should feel kind. ❤️
Let’s unpack this gently together, okay?
No judgment — just truth, clarity, and a bit of healing.
You said something so powerful without realizing it:
“He used to be kind, thoughtful, someone I admired. Now he’s selfish, teasing, and disrespectful.”
That transformation didn’t happen overnight.
It’s what psychologists call the fading empathy curve.
When people first fall in love, their brain floods with dopamine and oxytocin — the chemicals that make us attentive, gentle, and eager to please.
We listen. We care. We remember the details.
But as time passes, especially after getting back together, that spark of fear — the fear of losing you — fades.
And some people, instead of deepening their empathy, replace comfort with entitlement.
They start thinking:
“We’re close now, I don’t need to try as hard.”
“She knows I love her, so she’ll understand even if I tease.”
“She forgave me once, she’ll forgive me again.”
It’s subtle at first — small jokes, tiny dismissals, harmless teasing.
But soon, it grows into something heavier:
a pattern of disregard dressed as “closeness.”
When he says, “It’s just a joke, we’re close!” what he’s really saying is:
“I value my comfort more than your feelings.”
That line isn’t affection. It’s emotional laziness.
And it hides a truth many people refuse to see:
ð Closeness doesn’t erase boundaries — it makes them more important.
Think about your best friend, your mom, your sibling — the people you love most.
You’d never humiliate them “for fun,” right?
Because real closeness comes with care, not casual cruelty.
When someone teases you even after you’ve said, “I don’t like that,” they’re not misunderstanding — they’re testing your tolerance.
They want to see how much they can get away with before you push back.
And the more you endure in silence, the more permission they feel to keep going.
This is how “jokes” become patterns.
How comfort turns into control.
You asked: “Why has he changed so much?”
Here’s the hard truth: he didn’t change because of you. He changed because his sense of accountability faded.
The first time you dated, he was probably still trying to earn your trust.
The second time, he’s acting like he already owns it.
This isn’t about love fading — it’s about power shifting.
He’s realized that you care enough to stay, that you’ve forgiven him once, that you still respond when he mocks or ignores your boundaries.
So somewhere in his subconscious, he’s begun to think:
“I can relax. She won’t leave.”
That’s the emotional danger zone — when one person starts assuming the other will tolerate anything.
And here’s the sad truth about people like that:
They rarely change through confrontation alone.
They change only when they feel the risk of losing access to you.
Let’s talk about that music story, because it says so much.
You’re working, in your own little world, headphones on.
He asks to share — a small, intimate gesture. You say yes.
Then, without asking, he unplugs your phone, plugs in his own, and says he doesn’t like your music.
On the surface, it’s a tiny thing. But symbolically? It’s huge.
It’s not about the playlist.
It’s about entitlement.
He didn’t just switch the song — he overrode your autonomy, your space, your rhythm.
That’s exactly what he’s doing emotionally too: disconnecting your boundaries to connect his preferences.
And then, when you react, he laughs —
not because it’s funny, but because mocking your feelings keeps him in control.
This isn’t love anymore. It’s ego management disguised as “fun.”
You asked how to talk to him about it — and yes, communication is key.
But communication only works when both people value respect.
When someone keeps hurting you “for fun,” they don’t need more explanations — they need consequences.
Still, you can try one final, calm but firm conversation. Something like:
“I know you think some of these things are jokes, but they’re not funny to me — they hurt.
I’ve told you before, and you keep doing it.
That’s not closeness — that’s carelessness.
I’m not trying to start a fight; I just want to feel respected.
If it keeps happening, I’ll have to step back, because I can’t keep being the only one protecting this relationship.”
Say it once, clearly, and without pleading.
Because begging teaches people they can break you and still be forgiven.
Then believe him.
Not the version of him you miss — but the version he’s showing you now.
A man who truly loves you will never say, “I do this because we’re close.”
He’ll say, “Because we’re close, I’d never want to make you feel small.”
If he continues to mock, ignore, and dismiss you, you’re no longer in a relationship — you’re in a cycle of emotional erosion.
And cycles like that don’t heal with more love from you; they heal only when respect returns from him.
Let’s draw this line clearly, because many people confuse them:
| Comfort | Care |
|---|---|
| “I can do anything because we’re close.” | “I’m careful because I don’t want to hurt you.” |
| Stops trying once secure. | Keeps choosing you with effort. |
| Uses humor to mask disrespect. | Uses humor to bring you closer. |
| Apologizes only when cornered. | Apologizes because your feelings matter. |
He might still say “I love you,” but love without care is noise.
Don’t let someone convince you that rudeness is normal in long-term relationships.
It’s not. The longer love lasts, the gentler it should become — not rougher.
This is hard to hear, but necessary.
Every time you tell him a boundary and then forgive him for crossing it, you train his brain to devalue your words.
He stops hearing “stop.”
He hears “try again — she’ll forgive me.”
This is how once-considerate people become careless: through silent permission.
Not because you deserve it, but because they’ve realized they can misbehave and still be chosen.
But the moment you withdraw your participation in that pattern — when you show through action that disrespect equals distance — that’s when they start realizing your worth again.
Ask yourself these questions:
If you answered “no” to most, then what you’re holding onto isn’t him — it’s the memory of who he was.
And that version doesn’t exist anymore.
People who truly care will adjust after one clear conversation.
People who only care about comfort will make excuses.
So the next time he mocks, dismisses, or oversteps, don’t argue.
Just disengage.
End the call. Leave the room. Go silent — not to punish him, but to remind him that disrespect ends access.
Respect begins when indifference stops working.
It’s not just the disrespect — it’s the betrayal of memory.
You fell in love with his gentleness, his attentiveness, his care.
Now you’re looking at him and thinking, “Where did that man go?”
That confusion — watching kindness turn into cruelty — is one of the hardest forms of grief.
Because the person you miss is still standing in front of you, but emotionally, he’s gone.
So you keep waiting for glimpses of the old him to come back.
And sometimes he does — a small compliment here, a sweet message there.
But it’s like feeding your heart crumbs after once having a feast.
That’s not love, my friend. That’s nostalgia dressed as hope.
Leaving someone who still occasionally shows you affection feels impossible.
But remind yourself: you’re not leaving because you stopped loving him — you’re leaving because he stopped caring in the way love requires.
Say this to yourself if the guilt creeps in:
“I didn’t walk away because I hated him. I walked away because I started loving myself again.”
And that kind of love — the love you give back to yourself — is the foundation for every healthy relationship that will follow.
It will feel different — quieter, but stronger.
You’ll meet someone who doesn’t confuse teasing with affection.
Who remembers your boundaries and doesn’t make you beg for respect.
Who knows that “closeness” doesn’t mean chaos, it means care.
He’ll ask about your day not to fill silence, but because he truly wants to know.
He’ll hand you his headphones and ask, “What are you listening to?” instead of unplugging yours.
And that small act — that respect for your space — will tell you everything you need to know.
The person you loved once may never return.
And that’s okay.
Because love that disappears when comfort arrives was never meant to last.
Don’t chase the version of him that existed only in the beginning.
You deserve a partner who grows with you — not someone who treats love like a license to stop trying.
So if you’re wondering what to do now, here’s your answer in one sentence:
“Stay only where your peace is protected and your boundaries are respected.”
Everything else is noise.
You are not too sensitive.
You are not too demanding.
You are simply someone who knows what healthy love should feel like — and you’re brave enough to ask for it. ðŦ
So whatever you decide — whether you give him one more chance or finally close the door — promise me this: never again let someone mistake your kindness for permission.
Because love should never make you feel smaller to make someone else feel bigger.
And one day soon, someone will prove that to you — not with words, but with consistency. ❤️
#RelationshipBoundaries #ToxicBehavior #RespectInLove #EmotionalMaturity #HealthyRelationship #LoveWithoutControl #SelfWorth #SettingBoundaries #PsychologyOfLove #RelationshipAdvice #DramoCiety
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