Real Talk: It's Giving Red Flag Vibes

Since my last post got pretty deep, I figured it might be time for something a little juicier... relationships and dating. More specifically: my dumpster fire of a high school romance and the takeaways I hope you'll walk away with.

Dating in high school is especially tricky. First of all, you have no idea what the heck you’re doing — and neither do your friends. While their intentions may be pure, half the time the advice is either terrible or judgmental. And let’s be honest, there’s no way you’re talking to your parents or family about all that.

You know who is a great source for dating support? A therapist. A therapist can offer a judgment-free space, a fresh perspective, and teach you what healthy and unhealthy relationships look like. They can help you spot the red flags before you're in too deep — or help you heal from the heartbreak so you can get back to being you sooner.

Looking back now, with what I know about master manipulators, I was an easy target. At 15, with zero confidence and bursting with naivety, I made it real easy to be taken advantage of — for three years.

So What Did the Red Flags Look Like?

Where do I even start? I guess I’ll try to go in chronological order... or at least the order I can remember, 20 years later.

When things were “good” — which, in hindsight, was probably just the first few months — it was mostly because I was oblivious to his shenanigans. We went to different schools, which made it pretty easy for him to have another situationship without me knowing. And that's exactly what he did, had another hookup buddy with a girl from his school.

But that wasn’t even why we broke up the first time. He ended it. Then, not long after, he said he made a mistake and wanted to get back together. Of course, I agreed... only to find out he’d also hooked up with my good friend during our brief breakup.

Oh, and all my friends knew.

And you know what they said when I found out?

“Well, you weren’t having sex with him, so he had to go find it somewhere else.”

That made me feel amazing, as you can imagine. Had I had a therapist, I probably would’ve been given some deeper insight — something to help me feel better about myself instead of blaming myself for his betrayal.

We lasted a few more months before he dumped me again — this time over the phone, while I was on my way home from a basketball tournament. It was cold, short, and incredibly dismissive.

Later, I found out why he was so insensitive:

He had his side piece on the other line.

Yup. The same girl from the beginning.

We stopped talking for a while, until that one random text. And you already know how that goes:

Texting turns into phone calls, which turned into him literally begging me to take him back — even threatening to end his life if I didn’t.

A good therapist would’ve told me to run.

To understand that he clearly needed to work on himself.

That I couldn’t save him.

That this was a manipulation tactic.

But I didn’t have a therapist... or confidence. So what did I think?

“Omg he loves me so much he can’t live without me. This time will be different. He’ll do anything to keep me in his life. He’s the bad boy I can fix.”

Insert the biggest eye roll emoji here.

And of course, I took him back.

The details after that are a bit fuzzy. I don’t remember exactly how it ended, but I know it was around the time my depression took a full-on dive junior year.

Luckily, between junior and senior year, I started taking steps toward healing. I spent time with friends, had fun, and even went to Europe. I was starting to feel better and was excited for senior year.

But guess who was still putting in the work to win me back?

And I was letting him.

I thought I was being smart and in control. I thought:

“I can play him the way he played me.”

If that doesn’t scream “Girl, you need therapy”... I don’t know what does.

In a shocking turn of events, we got back together (again) to start my senior year. And honestly, it was fun — until his side piece contacted me. Again.

The whole time he was telling me how important I was to him, how I was his “everything” — he was driving my car (that I let him borrow while my dad was out of town) to her house for late-night hookups.

Naturally, this led to a ridiculous soap-opera moment where the two of us — me and the side piece — tried to confront him at his house while he hid inside.

After that? I was mostly done.

We met up a few times the following summer, but I no longer wanted anything from him.

My last memory of him is the night before I left for SDSU.

He was crying as I walked away, FINALLY saying goodbye for the last time.

What About Karma?

I’d love to tell you karma got him.

But the last time I (admittedly) stalked him on social media, it looked like he married a trust fund baby and got a cushy job at her rich daddy’s company.

Really, universe?

The Silver Lining

For me, the silver lining is this: I now fully appreciate what it means to have a good guy. A patient guy who gives you space to heal from wounds he didn’t create.

Maybe we have to go through all the red flags early in life so they don’t drag us down later — or maybe that’s just me trying to find peace with my “relationshit.”

Either way, I still can’t help but think how beneficial therapy would’ve been during that time. To have someone help me recognize the red flags and toxicity early on. To understand that all the energy I gave to him should’ve gone toward the most important relationship of all:

The one I had with myself.