He Doesn't Want You, Darling.

The harrowing truth behind the breadcrumbing

Apr 21, 2025

I had a long conversation with a girlfriend of mine today and it’s one I find myself having over and over- not just with this particular friend but many of my other girlfriends over the last few months.

Historically, I was always the one on the receiving end of brutal phrases that were all some version of “he’s just not that into you.”
But somewhere along the line, I guess I earned my stripes, and now I finally know how it feels to be the friend with the wisdom, doling it out to love-stricken girls with too many feelings and nowhere half-decent enough to put them down.

After a string of this-is-going-nowhere-fast situationships (which I documented in excruciating detail), I eventually returned to the scene of each crime.
I’ve got an insatiable desire to understand the human condition. I needed answers.

WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?!

If things felt inconclusive, I’d meet up with them.
I’d call them— the ghosts and the love-bombers— and I’d press until they gave it to me: the knock-me-sick, cold, hard truths.
I felt like they owed me that much, I guess.

I’d collected the data.
Drawn up the thesis.
Moved on from the army of fuckboys.

And now I’m in a loving, happy relationship.
And it would feel cruel of me to not share my findings with the next girl.

So… here it is:

Mixed Messages & Microdoses of Affection: A Research Memoir

Primary Research: Me, Crying

1. They are not like us.

I know, obvious. But it bears repeating.

Biologically, emotionally, socially men are not wired the same. While women are often conditioned to romanticise, analyse, and attach, men are taught (explicitly and subtly) that detachment is strength. That desire is casual. That love is optional.

And no, this isn’t about all men. It’s about the kind you’ve been crying over:
The emotionally unavailable kind who sends you a meme at midnight after ignoring your last two texts.
The kind who says things like “I’m just not in the right headspace” while still asking to see you once a week.

2. Breadcrumbing is not confusion. It's strategy.

Breadcrumbing: when someone gives you just enough attention to keep you hanging on, but never enough to build something real.

It’s emotional junk food. It tastes good in the moment, but leaves you feeling empty and a little sick after.

Here’s what it looks like in real time:

Exhibit A: The Meme He Sent at 2am

“He just sent me a meme out of nowhere. What does it mean?”
It means…

he saw a meme, thought you might like it, and wanted a dopamine hit from someone hot (that’s you). It does not mean he’s thinking about your future together.

“Why would he ask me over if he doesn’t have feelings for me?”
Because you go when he asks. That’s it. This isn’t a proposal. It’s not a declaration. It’s comfort. It’s convenience. It’s ego.

“But he doesn’t even try to sleep with me! Doesn’t that mean it’s something deeper?”
No, baby. I’m sorry. Sometimes, men just want companionship. A pretty, warm body to talk to. They want company, not commitment.

3. They can like you and still not want you.

I know… mind blown, right? I was told this recently by a guy I’d been previously involved with and I damn near fell over.

He can like your laugh. He can find you beautiful. He can enjoy your company and even open up to you and still not want a relationship.
Because for some men, affection does not equal intention.

For us girls (at least the ones I know), if we think you’re physically attractive and feel an emotional connection, then we’ve probably imagined what our wedding might be like at least once. (No? Just me? OK.)

If there’s a reason we’re not pursuing something, it’s usually big and obvious. A red flag we can’t unsee.
There would have to be a fundamental flaw for us to call it off and, even then, we’d probably try to fix the guy first.

But men? They can casually enjoy you for months without ever seriously considering you.

4. You’re not in love. You’re in love with the potential.

Let’s tell the truth.

Sometimes, we don’t love him. We love who he could be if he just got his fucking shit together. We’re dating the version of him that exists in our heads: The emotionally healed version. The one who goes to therapy and texts back in a timely manner.
That man is out there…
but this guy you’re obsessing over? He’s not him.

We are not out here planning a future with potential.

I used to lose myself in reveries—daydreams of a life with a version of him that never actually existed.

I lost years to people who were never going to show up.

Don’t be like me.

5. You deserve clarity, Not confusion.

If you’re constantly decoding signals, rereading texts, asking your friends to analyse his tone, and wondering whether a meme means he misses you… it doesn’t. If you have to wonder if someone wants you, they probably don’t.

Because when someone does want you, it’s not vague. It’s not hard. It’s not inconsistent.

When he wants you, he leaves no room for maybe.

It hits you in the face so fucking obviously, it makes you feel stupid for ever mistaking anything else as real. Any time someone has wanted me properly, I’ve been shocked by how plain and easy it is. They leave zero room for doubt.

Please just trust me on this.
I’ve cried in club toilets and journaled through denial. I’ve done my time in the fucking trenches.

So why do we stay?

Because we’re hopeful. Because we’re empathetic. Because we saw something once, and we can’t help but chase that feeling again. Because women are taught that endurance is a virtue.

I remember thinking that I could convince him. He just needed to see me in the right light, in the right lingerie, doing the right thing.

But the truth is this:
The right person doesn’t need convincing. They show up. They choose you without hesitation. They make space, not excuses.

What I learned while crying over men who liked me- just not enough:

The empirical evidence for He Doesn’t Want You
With appendices in: “But he said he missed me” and “I think he’s just scared.”

Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s an action. It’s a reciprocal give and take.
He doesn’t want to be with you, darling. That doesn’t make you unlovable, he’s just unavailable.

And here’s the real kicker… Sometimes there’s nothing wrong with him…he’s just unavailable to you.

I think my boyfriend is the most wonderful man on this planet. From day one, he made it clear that I was the woman for him. No grey area. No breadcrumb trail. But the girls before me? They had a very different experience. He told them he wasn’t ready for a relationship. And he wasn’t… with them.

That’s the part no one wants to hear. But it’s the part that will set you free.

This isn’t a rejection. It’s a redirection. Away from the confusion. Away from the emotional scraps. Away from the waiting room you’ve made a home in. Toward something clear, mutual, and nourishing.

You’re not “too much.” You’re not delusional. You’re just finally ready to stop mistaking crumbs for a feast.

And one day, someone comes along who doesn’t make you question your worth. You’ll just know. Because he’ll make it easy. And you will look back at this one dude and think “what the actual fuck was I crying about?!”

Until then, block his number. Or don’t. But, for the love of God, stand up, remember your worth and stop rereading that fucking meme.

We’re better than breadcrumbs, baby.

See you next time in the confessional.

with love,

Blithe x

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P.S.
I wrote this poem while I was in the trenches. I turned it into a song that maybe I’ll share with you one day.

The Diary of a Lover Girl
by Blithe Saxon

What’s a girl to a God?
Yeah, she’s hot,
but what’s a candle to the wind?
Scissors, paper and rock
It never seems to end

He wrote me back in March,
I cut him off,
he’s stone cold
—He wins.

They say paper beats rock,
so I’ll be paper thin.

I skip lunch,
open up,
and I pick up a pen:

‘Dear diary, I just want this feeling to end
He’s not even all that
—Okay, scratch that—
He is.
I take it all back,
I just wish I were his’

While he plays the field, I play alone,
crying at home,
writing the diary of a Lover Girl who don’t know how to love.

What chance have I got?
He’s a God
who forgot I exist.
I’m in the car and it’s dark
and he’s under my skin.
And when I’m with my friends,
or at a bar,
I stare at the door, hoping he walks in.
And when I’m alone, I dream of war
and then I think of him.

While he sits on the fence
or he stares at a screen,
I’m ignoring my friends
and he’s ignoring me.
Taste the scraps of his chest
while the other girls feast.
I’m lay up in his bed
hoping he cleaned the sheets.

I just gave him head and he still made me leave.
So I’ll smile,
I’ll pretend,
I’ll go home,
let him sleep.
And I’ll answer again the next time he calls me.

III

Damn, I'm naked again.
He reminds me of green,
chasing me like a debt that I pay every week.
And I'll pay it again.
Here, take all my money.

I’m here breaking my neck,
still, he thinks that I'm cheap

I guess he needs the bread
because he’s bread-crumbing me.
Beneath him, I'm spread
He’s starved me for weeks.
He won’t look while I beg like a dog at his feet
All the others girls fed while I’m still trying to eat

I think he’s the one
but he don’t think of me.
He just takes what he wants
then leaves me walking the streets.

He’ll never be mine and still I’m his to keep.

I’ll take what’s left.
I’ll toke on his dregs convinced it tastes sweet.
I’ll inhale each last breath.
It’s all that I need.

This is me talking to myself.
No peace.
I think I need help.
God, please.

—Blithe Saxon