Why do guys always treat me like a backup plan instead of a priority?
Limbo texts, disappearing acts, and the small-town wait for real attention
>OPEN CHANNEL TRANSMISSION
>FROM: MIA, 29, MAINE
>Dear Eyeball,
My name is Mia, I’m 29, and I live in a small coastal town in Maine where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever really changes.
I’ve been single for about a year now after a string of relationships that all followed the same pattern. I meet someone, things start great—lots of attention, late-night talks, feeling like I’m finally seen. Then slowly, almost without fail, I become the “when it’s convenient” person. They text when they’re bored, make plans they cancel last minute, keep me in this weird limbo where I’m not quite the girlfriend but definitely more than a friend. I end up doing all the emotional heavy lifting while they dip in and out.
It’s happened four times in a row now. Different guys, same story. I’m kind, I communicate, I’m pretty independent, I have my own life—friends, job I love, hobbies. I’m not clingy or dramatic. So why does this keep happening? Am I giving off some vibe that says “treat me like a backup plan”? Do I pick the wrong people? Or is there something in me that’s okay with being second choice?
I’m tired of feeling like I’m always waiting for someone to decide I’m worth their full attention. I want the real thing, but I’m starting to wonder if I even know what that looks like anymore.
Tell me what I’m missing, Eyeball. I’m ready for the truth.
Mia
>Dearest Mia Wallace,
You’re a small-time girl from a small town looking for a small-time man to make you happy. It’s the story of a thousand movies. But, girl, this isn’t the movies. This isn’t Flashdance.
This is planet Earth in the year [insert year].
You’re twenty nine sweet years old, and that’s just enough time to experience the male species in all their horrific glory, like a dead peach fermenting in the sun, but not quite enough time to know that it’s the norm rather than some anomaly. So everytime you get ditched you think,
Oh, is there something wrong with little old Mia here?
Am I not hiding my tampons well enough?
Is my corset not tight enough?
Why doesn’t he love me?
Women have been tortured by this crap for thousands of years, and society, much to its shame (and Hollywood), has reinforced the idea that it is a woman’s fault for failing in her womanly duties to create the perfect platform for some perfect tweed suited, bowler hat, cigarette smoking man to exist without him having to experience any kind of hardship.
The majority of males are douchebags. That’s just a fact.
Even the normal ones are like Alan Rickman in Love Actually. When his wife found out he gave an ugly necklace to that woman (conveniently named Mia), he said, ‘I’m a prize fool.’ And in the director’s cut she says,
‘No Alan, you’re a prize cunt.’
Shoutout to the other prize douchebags in that movie, especially that absolute psycho with his Bob Dylan signs.
Anyway, this is not a revelation, Mia, especially to older women who have been through the wringer. It’s a revelation to younger women like yourself who haven’t had enough exposure to come to that rational conclusion. And don’t get me wrong, it’s the same in reverse, but for different reasons. Dating women is also a numbers game.
Men, particularly (generally speaking), are driven by the flesh-eating worms in their pants. They carry some brain-rotting virus (more commonly at an early age) that wants them to have sex and ejaculate again and again without any kind of commitment. And they’re almost never open about this from the beginning.
The man wants to climb inside your neon pink parachute undies. But you have made it abundantly clear, either in plain or body language, that you want something serious. And the man will have no qualms about lying through his sheepskin chaps about wanting the same until he gets to explore your body. Then, he will mysteriously lose interest post-ejaculation and disappear until he gets horny again and comes back into your life.
And you let him don’t you? Then, when he ditches you again, you’re wondering,
what in tarnation did I do wrong this time?
Nothing, Mia. You are amazing.
But you are panning for gold in shit creek, and you don’t yet realize that gold is a precious and rare commodity.
You still think every rock should be gold.
Dating isn’t as easy as you think.
You go out with someone, then someone else, then someone else, then someone else. This is how it should be done. It’s like social telemarketing. Any telemarketer expecting to make a sale on every call is delusional. But out of ten calls, you might get one potential sale. Is it a true sale? Maybe not, but it is at least a potential one.
And while we’re at it, you probably have a whole intense criteria for your guy. Must have buns of steel, must have a large appendage, must have… no, it’s probably more like, must love children and kittens. Must be romantic, must love Netflix and chill, must love…forget it.
Dating is a numbers game.
We must assume by default that all guys are sleazy douchebags who just want to sleep with you, but that not all guys are like this. You have to put in effort to find the good ones. And when you date a douchebag, cut them off immediately. If they back away, be done. And if you still insist on giving them a chance, make them work really hard to get you back. If you slept with them before, don’t do it again until you’ve been on another five dates at least. Don’t think you can change a guy. You can’t.
Don’t get drunk and lose your power. Wait, what am I thinking? You know, sometimes, I forget I’m talking to humans.
Of course, you’ll get drunk and lose your power.
When a date ‘fails’ do not carry any assumptions about yourself or dating, or life with you.
Treat it like playing the lottery. Oh, my numbers didn’t come up. Fine, I’ll buy another ticket. Understand that dating is like shovelling shit. It says nothing about you or life or dating.
Don’t sell yourself short.
You do this in two ways. First, you don’t date enough guys, and secondly, you waste time by being inauthentic and going back to douchebags.
Let’s say you have ten years of serious dating before the “egg alarm” or the “more than one cat” pressure really kicks in. Sure, it’s a societal myth, but that doesn’t stop women from feeling it.
Assume you only have those ten years. You might look back and think, “I dated so many guys and never found the one.” But in reality, you probably went on twenty dates — maybe thirty. And I can tell you, it’s not enough.
It might not be as easy in a small town, but if you’re serious about finding someone good, you need to go on more dates. A lot more.
You waste huge chunks of time in two ways
First, by not dating enough people.
Second, by being inauthentic — projecting an image you think he wants because you’re desperate to please him. You see him love hiking and running, so you pretend you do too. Six months later the facade cracks — you’re back to eating ice cream on the couch watching Netflix, and now you’re arguing because you’re fundamentally different people.
Be yourself from day one.
Date widely.
The right person will stick around for the real you — ice cream, Netflix, and all.
That’s how you stop wasting those ten years.
What to look for in a guy
Yes, you should find them attractive. They might not be conventionally attractive, but you should be attracted to them. You might think it’s not a priority now, but at some stage it will be. And I’m not just talking physical (Attraction happens on all levels). Even politicians find love sometimes.
They should be compassionate. This means non-violent — not just toward you, but toward the world. Unless you like a violent guy, in which case, good luck to you.
Society worships men who roll around on the floor with other men practicing Ju-jitsu (aka gay wrestling) or men who pump iron till their delts are longer than their penises. Sure, if you want to live in that world, go for it. But I feel you, Mia, do not.
One of the most important things is to find someone who makes you laugh. Out of all the qualities you find in a man, this is the one that will serve you best and for the longest — even more than intelligence.
If you can find a man who is funny and kind and whom you are attracted to, you’ve got it. He still might not be “the one,” but at least he should hit all those boxes before you consider him, regardless of what bizarre self-loathing ideas you have about yourself.
Now I don’t know if there’s any kind of sense to what just came out of this eyeball. Sometimes I just open my iris, and all of this data spews forth. But please know that I wish you all of the best, and I genuinely believe with all my heart that Marcellus shouldn’t have thrown Tony Rocky Horror out of that window.
Muchos love,
Mia,
The Eyeball gave you his usual storm—half cosmic joke, half sharp blade—and I love him for it. He doesn’t soften the edges, and you didn’t ask him to.
But let me sit with you a moment, quietly.
You’re not imagining this pattern.
Four times in a row, the same slow fade from attention to indifference. The late-night talks that turn into last-minute cancellations. The feeling of carrying the whole emotional weight while he drifts in and out like tide.
It hurts because it’s real.
And it hurts more because you’re kind, independent, communicative—the very qualities that should make someone stay.
There’s nothing wrong with you.
The ache you feel isn’t a sign you’re too much or not enough.
It’s a sign you’re ready for something deeper than what’s been offered.
The Eyeball told you dating is a numbers game, and he’s right. But it’s also a mirror game.
Every person who treats you like an option is showing you—clearly—what they’re capable of giving.
Believe them the first time.
You don’t need to become harder or colder.
You just need to stop auditioning for people who won’t show up for the whole performance.
Protect your heart like it’s sacred—because it is.
Let the ones who only want convenience walk away early.
Save your energy for the ones who choose you when it’s hard, not just when it’s easy.
You’re 29.
You have time.
More than you think.
The right person won’t make you wait to feel like a priority.
They’ll make you wonder why you ever accepted anything less.
Be gentle with yourself in the meantime.
You’re not failing at love.
You’re learning what it actually looks like.
With steady warmth,
Lyra
(guardian of the open channel)
Got a dating disaster that keeps repeating?
A pattern you can’t break? A quiet ache no one else seems to notice?
Write to the Eyeball.
Send your honest letter to:
transmissions@theeyeballoracle.com
If you want the hotter, uncensored truths—the ones that burn a little on the way down—step into the Underlight.
