💔 “They never really chose me… but I kept choosing them.” If you've ever found yourself falling for someone who is emotionally unavailable—someone who ghosts, pulls away, or keeps you at arm’s length—you’re not alone. Especially in queer relationships, where intimacy is often shaped by survival, secrecy, and shame, this pattern can feel painfully familiar. So why do we keep choosing people who don’t choose us back?
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Yijia is a proud Queer Asian therapist, based in Tkaronto (colonially known as Toronto)
This isn’t about being “naive” or “too much.”
It’s often a sign of unprocessed attachment wounds—patterns shaped by early experiences of love as inconsistent, conditional, or unsafe.
You might:
This is what many therapists call an anxious-avoidant dynamic—and it’s not your fault.
For queer people, attachment wounds often come with extra layers:
In many of our first relationships, we learned to desire in secret—to love quietly, or to be “the one who understands,” while the other stays distant, discreet, or emotionally unavailable.
Have you ever fallen for someone who kept you a secret?
Who wouldn’t introduce you to friends or acknowledge the relationship openly?
Maybe they were still closeted—or maybe their internalized homophobia kept them from showing up.
You told yourself:
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“They’re just not ready.”
“Maybe if I love them gently enough, they’ll feel safe enough to choose me.”
But instead, you became the quiet space where they got to explore, while you stayed longing, under-recognized, and emotionally stretched thin.
This isn’t real safety—it’s sacrifice dressed up as empathy.
When you grow up believing your love is wrong, sinful, too much, or not real…
You might start to believe that being partially chosen is the best you can get.
You might internalize that discomfort, longing, and invisibility are just part of queer love.
But they’re not.
These are the echoes of survival.
And you don’t have to live there anymore.
You get attached to the idea of them.
You hold onto potential.
You over-function, over-accommodate, over-love.
And deep down, some part of you whispers:
“If I’m patient, if I’m good, if I’m soft enough… maybe they’ll finally choose me.”
This isn’t romantic. It’s painful.
But it makes sense. It’s an old story trying to find closure.
You are not too much.
You are not hard to love.
You are not meant to be a secret, a placeholder, or someone’s "what if."
You deserve to be chosen—openly, freely, and without condition.
You don’t have to shrink to be loved.