Why We Attract Emotionally Unavailable Partners
Understanding the Mirror of Our Shadow Self & The Need to Tend to Unhealed Wounds
Feeling his body against mine as we hugged goodnight, his piercing blue eyes finding mine as we pulled away. When he cradled my face into his hand, I melted into his lips. He had that way about him. I intuitively knew he was emotionally unavailable, but he felt so good.
Let’s back up. A few hours prior, I sat on the couch, half watching the sunset over the ocean, half watching Sex and the City—which had become far more relevant now that I was 37 and still single. I was feeling pretty cozy, escaping the reality of my relationship patterns by immersing myself in false romance—avoiding facing the shadow work I needed to do. I was still in denial at this point, telling myself I was over the hurt of being cheated on and then rejected by the next person I dated—who ended things by saying that “it was great that I was willing to move to be with him, but if the tables were turned, he wouldn’t do the same, and I deserved someone who would do the same”. I was headed into my dark night of the soul but didn’t know it yet.
Two hours later, after multiple episodes of my heart getting caught up in watching Carrie fall in love with Aiden, I texted the mysterious man I’d matched with on Hinge a week earlier to see if he wanted to meet for a glass of wine.
For lack of a better name, we’ll call him Nels, not because I’m maintaining his privacy, but because he gave me multiple names. I was unconsciously repeating a pattern that attracts emotionally unavailable men—using men to validate myself when I feel alone and rejected, a clear sign of unhealed wounds that need attention to further integrate my shadow self. We agreed to meet at a rooftop wine bar I’d never been to before. As I climbed the stairs, cloth-lined tables anchored by candles that illuminated the otherwise dimly lit space came into my vision. When he stood up to greet me, it felt as if his eyes pierced my soul. Unaware at the time that he was reflecting toxic relationship patterns I’ve unconsciously felt drawn to when I’ve not been in a good place.
He was one of the sexiest men I’d ever been on a date with, but I was quickly turned off by his demeanor.
His smooth, nonchalant attitude would have made him sexier to a past version of myself, but the way he leaned back in his chair, too cool to care, sent off warning signs in my head. He wreaked of the red flags I noticed on my first date with the most toxic man I’ve ever called “a partner”, who had also taken me to a very nice place for our first date. He was very well-dressed, smooth, and charismatic, just like Nels. I resigned to have a couple of drinks and make the best of it. But as my third wine spritzer went down and he insisted on walking me home, my attraction had grown.
This is why I highly discourage drinking on a first, or even third date, it clouds our judgment. But I wasn’t following my own rules at this point. I wanted to feel wanted.
I woke up the next morning thinking about him, while simultaneously questioning why I felt interested in a man who reminded me of my ex who I let severely damage my self-esteem. “F*ck it” I thought. I was only in town for one more day, “I might as well live it up making out with a ridiculously good-looking guy in Mexico”. He picked me up on his motorcycle and drove me to my favorite beach and beach restaurant for one last swim in the Pacific Ocean.
Holding onto him tightly while winding along the ocean-lined highway, the sea breeze whipping through my hair, my adrenaline pumping from riding his motorcycle with no helmet, I felt intoxicated by the magic of the moment.
I felt alive. I felt free.
We decided to hit the restaurant first. As we sat sipping margaritas with waves crashing just beyond our feet, I was surprised by the shift in his demeanor. He seemed way more down to earth. He was more attentive, asking questions to get to know me on a deeper level. We laughed. We shared about our past relationships and our views on life, love, and spirituality. We talked about where we were both struggling. It was the depth I crave to experience with a man. I drank in the excitement of feeling curious about someone again. I looked deep into his eyes as we spoke, as did he. We flirted, our hands rarely deviating from one another. I swam in the ocean, feeling the intoxication of dopamine pumping through my system.
Before the ocean breeze had dried my wild curly hair, I knew I wasn’t flying home the next day.
As we rode back, I felt the same exhilaration, but I also felt a sense of safety. My judgment now clouded by tequila and all of the “feel-good” hormones, I was feeling extremely attracted to Nels. Laying intertwined after multiple orgasms, the line between genuine interest and lust became completely blurred. I fell asleep in his arms, sexually satisfied for the first time since—shit, the toxic boyfriend.
Does a man being great in bed automatically mean he’ll be the emotionally unavailable, ego-driven, avoidant, non-comital type? Maybe not, but in my experience, it’s usually the “bad boys”—or “ex-bad boys”, if there’s even such a thing—who are great in bed.
Could he be an exception to the rule? I really want him to be an exception to the rule. The next day, I was more impressed by him. He called an Uber to take me, and all of my possessions to his Airbnb, helping me lug my 4 bags, portable air conditioner, blow-up mattress, and several other random items down the stairs and into the car. As we chatted with the owner of the Airbnb, he kept his arm around me, making comments and looking at me as if we’d been together for years. We spent my (actual) last night walking through the cobblestone streets, searching for a place to have a romantic dinner where I could feed my craving for red snapper.
He was touching me in some way the entire time. I’ve never had that, but I have deeply desired it.
We found a super romantic restaurant on the beach. We sat with our toes in the sand, his arm around me, as we watched the sun disappear behind the edge of the ocean. He made me laugh so hard at one point, I couldn’t stop snorting. I was fully present in every moment with him, with his touch, his words, his gaze. We shared our philosophies on life.
It was pure magic.
The next day, he rode his motorcycle to the airport to help me get my, now 3 bags inside. We sat across from each other as I ate my last chilaquiles, discussing how much we’d enjoyed the past three days together. Saying goodbye was hard. A part of me wanted to say “f* it” and stay a little longer in Mexico with him. I knew I could get lost in Mexico and his eyes forever, so I did the responsible thing.
I kissed him goodbye and made my way to security.
We stayed in touch after, sharing multiple 2-3-hour video chats while I was in NC and as I made my way to Texas, where I would be pet-sitting for the next two and a half months. Shorty after arriving in Austin, my health took a steep decline and I began moving into a dark, dark night of the soul. I was really going through it, and Nels was experiencing intense shifts in the spiritual realm. We decided to cut communication to focus on ourselves and agreed to check back in at the end of June, about a month and a half later. This gave me a lot of time to think.
While I felt so good when I was with him, in reality, he was a reflection of my shadow self, highlighting the unhealed parts of me that tend to attract avoidant partners.
On our first date, he told me he couldn’t do monogamy—a clear sign of his emotional unavailability. On our second date, he realized he should have given a try in his last relationship when she requested it—he didn’t know what he wanted, just like me, because I wasn’t actually ready for a committed relationship. We drank every time we were together—a way I “deal” when I’m not consciously aware that I’m hurting. He had a pretty pessimistic view of the world—a default I’ve had in the past when I’ve been in a bad place. He seemed to have some anger issues from childhood to work though—which, if you read my post about my last fight with my mom, I clearly did too. He doesn’t have a place that feels like home— an aspect of my sense of “not belonging” anywhere. And, he was definitely afraid of getting hurt again. Check, check, check.
This allows me to have a deep understanding and compassion for him, because I can fall into all of these tricks of the ego, but I’m afraid he would drag me into my shadow self.
As I was finally emerging from my dark night of the soul, he invited me to come visit him at his home in Peru.
Around the same time, I attended a retreat that shined light into my remaining dark spaces, repurifying my soul, helping me remember my innate value. I also met an incredible man who reflected my shift back to me. I wasn’t the same woman I’d been when I met him, desperately seeking validation. I tend to see the good in the men I’m interested in, seeing their potential and ignoring my intuition. The truth is that this is a huge gift and a challenge—a reminder of the need for more shadow work, to step deeper into self-worth. With someone also willing to dive into their shadows and work through them, this creates the potential for sacred union. Relationships are meant to reflect our blind spots where growth is needed. I told him that the cracked door we had was feeling like an energy leak and I needed to know one way or the other, did he care to put in the effort to see if we had the potential to be something?
I couldn’t be the one to turn away from our connection, I needed him to do it. Maybe it’s the romantic in me. I still choose to see this as a part of my beauty.
Nels has done a lot of shadow work, so I wanted to believe he was ready for conscious partnership. He asked to take a week to think about it. We had an in-depth conversation that only left more questions and decided to have one more chat to come to a conclusion. A week later, he messaged me saying, “I am clear now that we should close the door romantically”. The truth is that I attracted him when I wasn’t standing in my worth, reflecting my shadow of self-esteem issues. He also did not see his worth or the value our connection could provide, a common theme in relationships with emotionally unavailable partners. The more I’ve healed my wounds, the more ready I’ve become for divine union, but I’m still attracting men who aren’t ready for a commitment—like the guy I met at the retreat who reflected my light back to me. But we’ll save that story for the next post.
Ultimately, I believe with all of my heart that no relationship is a waste of time, there is no “wrong person” for us.
Part of me wanted to fully grasp the lessons I was meant to gain from Nels, but I had already outgrown the version of myself that initially attracted him. Yet, the truth is, even in the brief time he was in my life, he left me with many valuable insights. He mirrored the aspects of myself I wasn’t ready to confront, forcing me to see where I needed to be more honest and heal. He also broadened my understanding of what’s possible in a partner. Despite noticing much of his shadow, I also glimpsed his light. He showed me that there are men capable of deep, honest conversations, who speak their truth even when it’s uncomfortable, who take responsibility for their part, and who can make me laugh until I’m snorting and crying. He proved that the affection I crave isn’t too much, and that there are men who can meet me there. I’ll always be grateful for the role he played in my journey.
Who else has attracted partners who reflect the wounds you’ve yet to heal within yourself? May you read these words and know that you are not alone. Comment below if you resonate.
Love Always,
Becca