In the following weeks, Marcus was sweet, affectionate, and inconsistent.
He showed up when he wanted company, disappeared when he wanted space. Texted at midnight, ignored calls during the day. Made grand gestures—flowers, surprise dinners—only to vanish for days afterward.
Each disappearance felt like a betrayal, each return felt like redemption.
Nia documented it all in her therapy journal.
Day 1: Met Marcus at new restaurant. He paid. Seemed interested.
Day 3:Texted him. No response.
Day 5:Called. Voicemail only.
Day 7:He shows up at my place with ice cream and says, "I missed you." We sleep together.
Day 9:Ghosted again.
This was the cycle. The push-pull. The feast-famine.
Dr. Gadot flipped through the pages during their next session. "This is a textbook pattern of intermittent reinforcement," she explained. "He gives you attention sporadically, which trains your brain to stay hooked, hoping for the next reward."
"It makes me sound pathetic."
"It makes you human. Your brain is wired to seek pleasure, avoid pain. But when pleasure is unpredictable, it becomes addictive."
"So I'm dating a slot machine?"
"In a way, yes."
Nia groaned. "I need to stop playing."
---
**The Psychology of Intermittent Reinforcement
Nia sat back in her chair, absorbing what Dr. Gadot had just said.
Intermittent reinforcement.
It sounded clinical. Detached. Scientific.
But the truth behind it was deeply personal.
She thought about how her body reacted every time Marcus reappeared after disappearing for days.
Her heart would race.
Her stomach would flutter.
She'd feel a rush of excitement, even though she knew better.
Because part of her believed—if he came back once, maybe he'd stay forever.
That hope was powerful.
And dangerous.
Dr. Gadot leaned forward. "Let me explain this more clearly."
Nia nodded.
"Your brain releases dopamine—the pleasure chemical—when you receive something unexpected and rewarding. That's why people get addicted to gambling. A slot machine doesn't pay out every time. Sometimes it pays nothing. Sometimes it pays big. And because you don't know when it'll hit, you keep pulling the lever."
Nia exhaled slowly. "So… I'm chasing the jackpot?"
"Yes. And just like with gambling, the losses are real. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. You invest energy, hope, time, and sometimes money into a man who keeps you guessing. And when he disappears, it reinforces the belief that you're not worthy of consistent love."
Nia swallowed hard. "That's exactly what happens."
"And that's why breaking the cycle is so difficult. Because your brain has been conditioned to expect inconsistency. It mistakes unpredictability for passion."
"I never thought of it like that."
"You've been taught to equate chaos with connection. Excitement with intimacy. Attention with love. But none of those things replace real emotional investment."
Nia looked down at her hands. "So what do I do now?"
"We start rewiring your brain."
"How?"
"By recognizing the pattern. By naming it. By understanding where it comes from. And by choosing differently—even when it's hard."
Nia nodded slowly. "I want to choose differently."
"You can."
---
**Flashback: The Slot Machine Man**
As she left therapy that afternoon, Nia found herself thinking about one of her earliest relationships—Jordan Taylor.
He had been the first man to make her feel like she mattered.
Poetic. Charismatic. Mysterious.
He wrote her love letters, sang to her under moonlit skies, and made her feel like she was living in a movie.
But then he vanished.
Without warning.
Without explanation.
Just gone.
And when he reappeared months later, he acted like nothing had changed.
Like he hadn't left her heart shattered on the floor.
She remembered sitting across from him at a small café, trying to understand why he had disappeared.
"Why didn't you say goodbye?" she had asked.
He shrugged. "I needed space."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
She had begged him to stay.
To explain.
To apologize.
But he didn't.
Instead, he kissed her forehead and walked away.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Every few months, he would reappear.
Text her out of nowhere.
Invite her for drinks.
Sleep with her.
Then disappear.
For years, she played his game.
Hoping that one day, he'd stay.
That one day, he'd choose her.
That one day, he'd love her the way she deserved.
Eventually, she stopped answering his texts.
Stopped waiting for him to show up.
Stopped believing he ever would.
And yet, here she was decades later, repeating the same pattern.
With Marcus.
With Elijah.
With Darius.
With every emotionally unavailable man who whispered sweet nothings and then vanished without a trace.
---
**Breaking the Cycle**
Back home, Nia sat at her desk, flipping through old journals.
She pulled out a worn leather-bound notebook—her college journal.
Inside were scribbled poems, notes from lectures, and love letters Jordan had written to her.
She read one aloud:
"You are my muse, my dream, my everything. When I look at you, I see forever."
She laughed bitterly.
Forever had lasted six months.
She closed the journal and placed it aside.
Then she grabbed a fresh notebook and began writing.
Dear Me,
Today, I realized something. I've spent my entire adult life chasing men who don't know how to love me back. Not because I'm unworthy. Not because I'm broken. But because I learned early on that love isn't reliable. That people leave. That promises fade. That absence feels safer than presence.
I romanticize the chase. The thrill of being pursued. The intoxicating feeling of being wanted. But I forget that desire doesn't equal devotion. That charm doesn't equal commitment. That presence doesn't equal partnership.
I deserve more than moments of attention followed by long stretches of silence. I deserve consistency. Stability. Reciprocity. Love that shows up—not just when it's convenient, but when it's necessary.
I am learning to break the cycle. To recognize the red flags before they become wildfires. To walk away before I lose myself. To choose peace over passion. Presence over performance. Love that lasts over love that fades.
I am enough. I always have been. And I will no longer settle for less.
She closed the journal.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Not tears of sadness.
Tears of release.
Of realization.
Of healing.
---
**Lola Knows Best**
Later that evening, Nia met Lola for dinner.
They were seated at a quiet corner table in their favorite Italian bistro—La Dolce Vita, a cozy spot known for its handmade pasta and intimate ambiance.
Lola raised an eyebrow as soon as she saw Nia's face.
"What happened?"
Nia smiled faintly. "I broke it off with Marcus."
Lola blinked. "For real this time?"
"For real."
"No more second chances?"
Nia shook her head. "No more."
Lola studied her. "How do you feel?"
Nia considered. "Lighter. Freer. Like I finally woke up from a dream I didn't realize I was having."
Lola grinned. "Girl, I'm proud of you."
"I did it, Lo. I actually walked away."
"You damn well did."
Nia took a sip of wine. "I realized something today. I've been chasing men who remind me of my father. Who come and go without explanation. Who offer excitement but not stability. And I kept thinking if I gave them enough, loved them enough, supported them enough—that they'd change."
Lola reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "And now?"
Nia smiled. "Now I know I deserve better. I deserve a man who shows up. Who communicates. Who loves me consistently—not just when it's convenient."
Lola nodded. "Exactly."
Nia sighed. "It's going to be hard. Breaking the pattern. Resisting the pull. But I'm ready."
"You've got this, girl."
Nia looked at her best friend, heart full.
She really did.
---
**A Message That Changed Everything**
The next morning, Nia checked her phone.
There was a message from Andre.
"Hey Nia. Hope you're having a good morning. Would you like to grab brunch this weekend?"
She stared at the screen.
This was different.
No games.
No disappearing acts.
No late-night texts followed by days of silence.
Just a simple, straightforward question.
And for once, she didn't hesitate.
She typed back:
> _"I'd love that. How about Sunfay at 11?"_
She hit send.
And for the first time in a long time, she wasn't chasing.
She was choosing.
And that, she realized, was the beginning of something new.
---
### **Therapy Session: Rewriting the Script**
During their next session, Nia shared her breakthrough with Dr. Gadot.
"I finally saw the pattern," she said. "Marcus wasn't different. He was just another version of the same man I've been drawn to my whole life."
Dr. Gadot smiled. "That's huge, Nia."
"I used to think the problem was me. That I wasn't enough. That I was too much or not enough. But now I see—it wasn't me. It was the men I chose."
Dr. Gadot nodded. "That's a powerful realization."
Nia continued. "I've spent my life looking for love in places where it wasn't available. Chasing men who offered excitement but not stability. Passion but not presence. And I kept telling myself if I gave them enough, they'd change."
"But they didn't."
"No. They didn't. And now I understand why. Because they weren't broken. I was just trying to fix them."
Dr. Gadot leaned forward. "And now?"
Nia smiled. "Now I'm choosing differently."
Dr. Gadot clapped softly. "That's growth."
Nia laughed. "Yeah. It is."
---
**A New Kind of Love Story**
As Nia left the session, she felt something stir inside her—a quiet confidence, a sense of clarity.
She didn't need to chase love anymore.
She needed to cultivate it within herself.
And when the right person came along?
She'd be ready.
Not desperate.
Not searching.
Just open.
And whole.