Q:

In 2021, I moved to London for university. After a lonely first year, I made friends and eventually formed a deep friendship with someone in my course. We clicked right away and quickly became inseparable (with boundaries). For nearly two years, we were close, and I genuinely thought I’d found a part of my emotional home in them.

In 2024, things shifted. I started sleeping over more often, and I caught real, grounded feelings-feelings that made me realise how much I’d faked or forced attraction in the past. But they’re aspec, and while part of me hoped, I didn’t expect reciprocation. I eventually told them I had a crush and needed more physical and emotional boundaries. They said they weren’t interested romantically but didn’t want to lose me. I tried to return to “just friends,” even though the lines were increasingly blurry.

Eventually, after graduation, they told me they did have romantic feelings and how this felt new to them. We had a brief, intense relationship-but it came with an expiration date. They said they couldn’t do long distance but wanted to talk when they visited me in South Africa later that year with the potential of a “future.” I agreed.

Things got messier. They fell into depression, I spiralled into what I imagine a manic episode feels like, and our communication became strained and painful, though there were still fun and enjoyable moments. They said the relationship felt like a dream they couldn’t return to and that the idea of calling someone a partner terrified them. I wrote many emotional letters, full of longing, and while I meant well, I now recognise I wasn’t respecting their boundaries.

When they visited South Africa, they met my friends and family. I cried more than I ever had, but somehow the visit still went well. We had fewer misunderstandings, fewer long confusing texts. They seemed happy and expressed that as well. I thought maybe we were on good terms.

When they returned home, their messages became less frequent and less emotional. I told myself not to overthink or catastrophise and tried to be okay with their distance. I remembered that they had once said they liked hearing updates, even if they didn’t reply. So I kept sending light-hearted ones.

Then one day, I acknowledged the hurt I had caused them and how much I now understood it. They said they felt disconnected. We agreed to stop texting and just talk on the phone. That evening, they called and said they needed four months of no contact. I felt like I left my body. I begged and tried to negotiate, but they were clear: it had to be four months, on their terms.

Those four months were hard. I made new friends and focused on growth, but deep down I still framed it as becoming someone they could feel safe being close to again. When the time was up, I hoped we’d start slowly rebuilding.

Instead, they called to say they didn’t think we could be friends anymore-although they hoped maybe one day we would be. They said they missed me but couldn’t risk that kind of emotional pain again. I was devastated. Since then, they’ve blocked me-and even some of my friends. It’s been three months since that finality.

I know I crossed boundaries at times-overtexting, over-explaining, panicking when I felt distant from them. I tried to repair, but maybe too late. I’m still holding grief, confusion, and some hope.

Logically, I get it. I know I was reactive and emotionally dependent at times. But I also know there was real love and joy, even in the mess.

My questions are:

Does a prolonged breakup like this mean we’ll never be friends again?

Is repair even if not now possible? (and I know focusing on myself is the priority right now but these thoughts won’t leave my mind)Is it unhealthy to keep hoping for that, or is it okay to still care?

How do I hold space for caring about someone who’s made it clear they need distance, without losing myself?

How do I let go but allow uncertainty in a way that doesn’t make it overly pessimistic or over idealistic?

I’ve had people tell me I need to move on completely-and they’re probably right. But part of me still believes there was real love here, and that maybe, someday, that means something.

Any clarity or honesty you can offer would mean the world. Thanks for any advice.

A:

Heartbreak and longing in South Africa? Are you me?

Firstly, I have to thank you for the detailed account of what you’re going through. It’s always easier for me to write to someone when I have feelings and memories to anchor myself to. You’ve given me plenty, and the one thing that comes out most strongly is that you still deeply love this person.

So let me tell you that you can show them love by letting them go. One day at a time. That’s my central thesis. It’s helpful that you gave me concrete questions. I’ll argue my point out as I respond to each.

Can you ever be friends again?

You understandably want to know if you two can ever be friends again after a breakup. I’ve always believed that barring abusive or unethical behavior, there’s always room for friendship after the fallout. The real question is can you two maintain a friendship after your breakup?

There’s no average person on Earth. Enough people put together make an average, but no single person is the average. The relationships I’ve seen turn into lasting friendships tend to have qualities in common after they separate. Shared hobbies. A mutual interest in continued contact. Resolution of misdeeds. Certainty in the future. Emotional disentanglement. These are the sorts of things that link exes together without tying them to each other.

It also helps if the relationship didn’t end on firm no-contact or blocked communications. I get that your ex (that’s what they are.) left a possible door open for friendship at one point, but they’ve shut it. Blocking you and mutual friends on their comms? Telling you directly that they don’t see a friendship? I don’t see clearer signs that a friendship is not on the cards for a long time. And if a friendship is ever feasible, it will have to be on their terms. They built the boundary. If you try to tear it down, it’s another boundary violation. There’s no friendship here unless they act on it. And all evidence points to them not wanting friendship for the foreseeable future.

Is repairing this possible?

I can give you a firm maybe when it comes to eventually rebuilding a friendship. See my previous point about how your ex has to initiate the process.

Closer to the point, I’m seeing in you what I see in myself when I’m on the receiving end of a hard breakup. I replay good memories on loop while being miserable. I sit with my feelings, and they eat me up on the inside. I hope that things will turn in my favor despite all the evidence pointing the other way.

And I don’t know about you, but the worst part for me is I’m so wrapped up in my isolation and feelings that I forget what the other person was like. All I’m left with is my idea of them. The idealized version I constructed. The hopes for a brighter future. The unassailable perfection. That’s the worst part of it for me, because I’m not even pining for a person anymore. I’m just miserable over an idea of a person who has exited. Those kinds of thoughts will eat a person alive.

Is it wrong to keep caring? Absolutely not. But it’s a disservice to you if your ‘caring’ happens at the expense of your well-being. They’ve extracted themselves from your life and, to use a South African analogy, put up high walls and electric fencing to keep you out. The care you still have for them is being spent on yourself. You have to decide if it’s worth doing when it’s clearly coming out of your health. I’m not telling you to stop caring or harden yourself. I’m asking you to let go of the embers one at a time so that things can wind down.

Paradoxically, the way to look out for someone who explicitly needs distance is to care about yourself. There’s nothing to be done for them. No reaching out. No sliding an apology in their direction. No passing messages down the chain of friends. Nothing.

If you’re respecting the distance they’ve formed, you’re doing exactly what you need to do. It’s far more important to work through your own feelings, memories and yes, your idealization of this person so that you can slowly separate your psyche from the shared experience. It’s doable, but it’s only doable if you take the first step of turning your attention inward rather than filing another silent scream into the void.

Facing uncertainty in the face of hope

Call me a hardliner, but I’m of the opinion that ‘will we/won’t we’ uncertainty and ‘letting go’ stand in opposition to each other. Slowly letting go while still having a bit of hope isn’t something all of us can do. In fact, I think that’s advice for people who feel things less intensely.

I’m the kind of person who experiences love and heartbreak very sharply. I’ve learned through repeated heartbreaks and pain that I can’t start letting go until I sever myself from the other person. I can’t be kind to myself until I expunge all the hope bound up in someone else who doesn’t want me.

My previous ex and I maintained a friendship after she broke up with me. I wanted the friendship and was probably more enthusiastic about it. At first, I only wanted that friendship as a potential entry point to restart the relationship. This carried on until she moved away. To tell you the truth, I didn’t start healing from that breakup until I learned that there was no hope for a relationship. Too much distance. It didn’t work out. She isn’t interested and my interest is a waste of time. I could only heal after I stripped the romantic affection I had for her out of my life.

It’s a harsh approach, but the way I experience heartbreak is harsh. Unrelenting feelings need to be matched against equally firm personal boundaries. I think that’s a realization your ex had when they went no-contact.

Where love goes after this

Notch another name onto the list of people who think it’s time for you to move on. Reading your submission came close to home. Not just geographically, but seeing the emotions I normally show after a heartbreak in someone else. I have to give you the advice I think is best for you in the long-run, and that is to begin again. With yourself.

I don’t think there’s room for rebuilding a friendship when they’re firmly no-contact. I don’t see long-term potential with someone with this much shared pain, but is also asexual. I can’t tell you to hang onto feelings that at best, leads to more hurt and isolation for you. At worst, it’ll be a violation of their boundaries.

You’ve been severed from someone you care deeply about before you were ready. It wasn’t on your terms. Seeing how strong your feelings are, there may not have been a version of this that could have been on your terms. What you have left are your friends, support structures, and self-reliance. It’s what you need to rebuild. Not to rebuild what you had with your ex, but to rebuild your wounded psyche after a very painful breakup.

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