Love in the Bubble — Issue 296

Cry Me a River: Be Wary of Thy ‘Sensitive’ Boys

During my stint here in St Andrews, one of the few guys I became involved with was supposed to be easy. A short-term friends-with-benefits situation for a girl down on her confidence. He was sweet and, most dreaded of all, sensitive.

As I came to discover for myself, sensitivity is misunderstood. At first, I thought it was a sign of being comfortable with your masculinity. This boy proclaimed to love romcoms, sang in public, wore jewellery, and acted relatively charming. He was a self-identifying romantic. 

This sensitivity turned sickly sweet. He was a horrible planner and a boring but incessant texter. He cried in my bed about his ex. When I asked for the same support, it became “too much” and “too serious,” so he hung up to play Clash of Clans. I saw him on dates with other girls and heard about his escapades on Wednesday nights through the grapevine, both likely featuring the same overplayed and cheesy lines. He ignored me in public and then crawled back for help with his overdue essays and disgusting attempts at grammar. He refused to come to the pub on my birthday because it wasn’t a “special occasion.” I quickly saw all of it for what it was: self-obsession and emotional immaturity.

Once I was done getting blown off for video games and embarrassed in front of my friends, it took me weeks to break it off because no conversation actually got through to him. It was obvious he wanted something more serious than what I was offering. Telling his entire extended family about me was a giveaway to this, though he refuted it every time. “You have to trust me to communicate what I want,” he would say — if you are ever told this, run fast. He was either a liar or couldn't handle rejection (or both), because he then proclaimed to love me and wrote “315 pages of love letters, of me for you.” Luckily, I never saw those pages. 

After everything, I don’t regret my decision to become involved with him; I’m only mad at myself for letting it go that far. Thankfully, lessons lie in everything, dear reader, sobbing boys included. Skip his tears and remember that just because something is casual does not mean you deserve to be treated like a convenience.

I wish the best to his new girlfriend, I just hope he cries less about me than he did about his ex.

Illustration by Elizabeth Lang