I wasn’t sure how to react when I saw him break down for the first time. It was all because of me. I made him that way. I’d told him something he never expected, and he wasn’t handling it well. I should have felt remorseful for hurting him, but I didn’t feel anything. It was strange, so unlike me. I just stood there and watched him crumble. A small part of me felt sorry for him, but a larger part remained indifferent. Amid all my uncertainty, one thing was crystal clear: I would never be able to love Phil the way he deserved.

It’s been hell coming to terms with the truth: I had used Phil to rediscover myself, to reclaim the confidence and self-esteem I had lost.

I met Phil during one of the lowest points in my life. I’d just come out of a toxic relationship with Josh, where nothing I did was ever good enough. He’d criticise everything about me, from how I spoke to how I dressed. Even our sex life wasn’t spared. That was the hardest part. Josh made it clear I wasn’t enough for him. He’d constantly compare me to his ex, even sending me videos of them together and asking me to “learn” from her. The pressure to get everything “right” was suffocating, and my nerves always got the better of me, leading to more mistakes.

Over time, his cruel words sank in, and I began to believe them. I started seeing myself as a failure who couldn’t measure up. My confidence shattered, and I became sexually insecure, doubting if I could ever satisfy a man. Even after Josh ended things, I avoided relationships entirely. The trauma he left behind made me hate the idea of love, of intimacy. And then Phil came along.

Phil was nothing like Josh. He was patient, gentle, and kind, starkly contrasting the whirlwind of criticism I’d endured. At first, I tried to push him away, as I did with everyone else, but there was something about him, something calming and persistent. He had this uncanny ability to make me feel special, even when I felt broken. Phil wasn’t the type of man I’d normally be attracted to, but his unwavering care and attention slowly broke down my walls. Eventually, I gave in.

The night it happened, the first time we had sex, I was a bundle of nerves. Every negative memory of my time with Josh flooded back, whispering doubts into my ear. But Phil’s touch was different. He didn’t rush or demand. Instead, he took his time, letting his hands explore my body like it was a masterpiece he’d waited years to admire. When his lips found mine, they were soft and reassuring, not filled with urgency but with a promise of care.

As he undressed me, I couldn’t help but feel exposed and vulnerable. But then he looked at me, really looked at me, with an admiration so genuine that I felt a flicker of confidence ignite within me. His hands traced every inch of my skin, his touch light yet deliberate, as though he wanted me to know he cherished every part of me. By the time he entered me, I was no longer nervous. Instead, I felt a sense of trust I hadn’t known in years.

Phil made love to me like I was the centre of his world. His movements were deliberate yet tender, his rhythm attuned to mine. He whispered words of affirmation, his voice low and husky, as though trying to rebuild the confidence that had been stolen from me. When he climaxed, I could see the pure joy and satisfaction on his face, something I’d never witnessed with Josh. For a fleeting moment, I felt powerful, like I had reclaimed a part of myself.

But the euphoria didn’t last. While Phil was over the moon, I felt… empty. I’d hoped this moment would bring me the validation I craved, but it didn’t. Something was still missing; no matter how much Phil reassured me, his validation wasn’t enough. I didn’t trust his words because he was too soft and accommodating. Unlike Josh, who made me feel I needed to prove myself, Phil never challenged me, and I realised I needed more.

In my search for answers, I strayed. I sought out other men, wanting to test myself to see if I could truly be enough. With them, it was different. They were assertive, confident, and demanding in ways Phil wasn’t. Each encounter made me more confident that the problem had never been me. Josh had been wrong about me all along. I wasn’t inadequate. I wasn’t broken. The issue had been him, his cruelty, his manipulation.

Now that I’ve rediscovered my confidence and self-worth, I can’t see a future with Phil. As much as it hurts to admit, I no longer need him. He was my crutch, the person who helped me stand again. But now that I’m standing tall, I can’t carry him with me. A part of me feels guilty for using him, for breaking his heart. But another part of me knows this is the only way forward.

And so, as I watch him break down, I feel the weight of my choices. But I don’t regret them. For the first time in a long time, I feel free.

Dorcas Akintoye
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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.