The Nice People Who Can’t Bear to End Relationships

Some of the most sensitive and generous people in the world have a fault which deserves to be named and explored: a fear of ending relationships.

Like every adult, they find themselves in situations where an ending is necessary. They need to move on, they fancy someone else, they have to grow in new directions.

The problem is that this sets up an insuperable challenge. Nothing in the past of these very kind people prepared them for this. As children, they were likely to have faced very unstable or angry parents whom they needed to manage and to stay very good around. No one had time for their complicated needs. Father might have been raging about a work crisis; mother might have been crying in her room about a loss in her past. The child learnt to get by by complying. Now they are adults who accommodate others’ needs whenever possible. They smile a lot, they are extremely deferential. Everyone calls them ‘very nice’ – and they really are.

When kindness turns into paralysis

Except that, at times in love, there is a problem. They need to do something very harsh indeed to someone who has been very nice to them – and who has no clue what is in store. They look at them, perhaps asleep next to them, one hand outstretched to meet them, and feel as if they might prefer to kill themselves than to move forward with their plan. How could they possibly cause this very lovely person discomfort? After all they’ve done for them. After the nice holidays, the sweet gifts, the tender moments, their patience with their career crisis.

Nevertheless, the feelings can’t be denied either. They keep surging back at inopportune moments: on a country hike, during a birthday celebration, at the museum. The sense of discomfort doesn’t go away. The partner has grown (despite themselves) properly irksome. They are annoying when they speak, when they come for a cuddle, when they discuss the future.

Living with the fear of ending relationships

Eventually, the very nice person does the only thing possible for them. They dial down their affections very, very quietly, invisibly, and trust that eventually the partner will notice – and leave.

For a while, the partner (especially if they’ve been imbued with confidence from childhood) may not register anything. They might not spot that it’s the fourth week that sex has been dodged; or that it’s the third weekend straight that their companion is spending with friends. But eventually, even the most secure partner is likely to make a protest. ‘Why didn’t you reply to my messages?’ ‘How come you never want to spend time together?’ ‘Why don’t you want sex any more?’

To be properly effective, the departing partner has at this point to develop a special kind of entirely deniable, quietly offensive accusatory manner. They have to become a pain. ‘We have tons of sex, what do you mean?’ Or: ‘I’m just very tired from work, please don’t keep bothering me…’ Or: ‘I need to go out as it’s Christine’s birthday, can’t you develop your own friendship group?’

Turning avoidance into an exit

This can go on for a very long time. There is much talk at large about needing to work on relationships; and some people (unfortunately in such cases) have a lot of willingness to try. The more bratty the departing lover gets, the more indulgent and thoughtful their partner may become. Even so, if the departing lover is lucky, their partner will eventually lose patience. One evening, or perhaps morning, over text or in the kitchen, something will snap. The tension will be too great; the feeling of being held at bay, unloved but not dispensed with, will grow unbearable.

‘I’m so sorry but I’m unhappy here and I think I need to get out,’ will say the partner who has been dismissed-but-wants-to-stay to the partner who pretends-to-want-to-stay-but-has-been-dismissed. To which the firing lover can reply: ‘It’s really sad that you feel this way, but I do understand…’ ‘It’s really unfortunate you want to leave, I won’t hold you back…’

For a time, the heartbroken partner will be too muddled to follow the complex trail of blame to its source. They’ll feel guilty about how critical they have been rather than explore how right they were to be furious. An overwhelming sadness will cloud their ability to do much more than pack their bags and leave.

For months, and probably years, after, the fired lover will wonder what they did wrong. Would the relationship have survived, if only they hadn’t lost their temper over the constant absences? Were they too possessive? Were they wrong to complain about the missing messages? They might take these questions to a therapist. The exploration will last an age.

The fired partner will, in the process, quietly go mad, carrying the burden of ending something they desperately wanted to continue, for reasons they cannot put a finger on.

For their part, the firing partner’s mind will have more or less shut down on the issue. Why did the relationship end, kind friends might ask. ‘Oh, it’s complicated, they were so nice, but you know, some things don’t quite work. It’s hard…’ One can get away with that, in most circles.

In a small antechamber of the heart, they will of course know the reality: that the fear of ending relationships drove everything; that they had to execute the partner; that they are necessarily far too nice ever to hurt anyone; and that no one must ever, ever suspect the truth.