Between The Matches

Looking back, I think the mixed signals were the first sign that things were coming to an end.

Sorry to spoil the story so quickly, but this is where my chapter with Will comes to a close.

One weekend, he told me he wasn’t feeling well. Earlier that evening, he had gone out with friends, and unlike his usual habit, I never heard from him when he got home.

To be fair, he wasn’t my boyfriend. He didn’t owe me a text or an explanation.

Still, it felt different.

The next day, he told me he had come straight home early and was sick all night.

At the time, I believed him. If you asked me now, I’m not so sure.

He ended up canceling our plans the following day because he still wasn’t feeling well. I was not happy, but I understood.

The week after, though, he stopped by to see me for about an hour before heading to practice because it was the only time our schedules lined up.

It was a thoughtful gesture, and I appreciated that he made the effort.

But I couldn’t ignore the bigger picture.

Our time together was shrinking, and more importantly, it seemed like I was the one keeping it on the calendar.

I started noticing that entire weeks would go by without either of us making plans. More often than not, it would be Sunday evening before I’d realize we hadn’t talked about seeing each other at all.

Finally, I asked him about it.

“Why don’t you ever reach out to make plans anymore?”

He seemed genuinely surprised.

He told me he hadn’t realized he was doing that and said he would make more of an effort.

But by then, something already felt different.

The excitement we’d shared in the beginning had faded, replaced by conversations that felt obligatory rather than intentional. Neither of us seemed fully invested anymore, and the distance between us had become more emotional than physical.

At one point, Will had admitted that relationships were difficult for him.

The more I reflected on our time together, the more I wondered if that was exactly what I was seeing play out. I think he genuinely liked me, but when things reached the point where they required vulnerability, consistency, and a deeper commitment, something held him back.

Maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was the weight of everything he had carried in the past.

Maybe it was simply that we weren’t the right fit.

Whatever the reason, it felt like the spark we had in the beginning never had the chance to grow into something more.

After an awkward week of half-hearted conversations, Will finally asked if we could talk.

Oddly enough, I felt relieved.

I had enjoyed getting to know him, but the uncertainty of the previous few weeks had quietly changed the way I felt.

During our conversation, he confirmed what I had already suspected: he didn’t know how to take the relationship any further.

I expected to be disappointed.

Instead, I found myself at peace.

Because by then I had realized something important.

The right relationship shouldn’t require me to convince someone to make space for me in their life. I didn’t want to chase someone down to make plans or wonder whether I was on their mind.

I simply wanted someone who thought of me the way I thought of them.

Someone who matched my effort—not by overwhelming me with attention, but by showing up consistently and choosing the relationship alongside me.

When things ended with Will, there was no anger and no resentment. Just acceptance. I wished him well, and I still do.

Afterward, I promised myself I was finally going to take a break from dating.

A real break this time.

Of course, if you’ve made it this far in the blog, you probably know that I haven’t always been great at keeping promises to myself.