Avoidants Should Date Avoidants, Please???

There are people in the world, and then there are avoidants.

Avoidants are fascinating people. Not bad people, not wicked people, just people whose emotional wiring works a little differently. Imagine someone who genuinely likes you. They enjoy your company, laugh at your jokes, maybe even hold your hand. But the moment things begin to feel real, like actually real, something inside them starts ringing an alarm. Suddenly they need space. They need time. They need to “figure things out.” Their phone becomes mysteriously quiet, their schedule mysteriously full. Congratulations, you may have met what psychology calls an avoidant attachment style. In simple terms, closeness begins to feel like pressure, so they instinctively create distance. They do not usually run dramatically; avoidants are far more refined than that. They withdraw quietly. They detach politely. They master the art of emotional disappearing.

The confusing thing is that avoidants often start beautifully. They are attentive, charming, thoughtful. They text you good morning. They ask about your day. For a moment it feels easy and warm. But as the connection deepens, something shifts. They step back. They grow distant. And if you are someone who believes in showing up, communicating, and building something real, you start to feel the impact. They take more from you than they realize. They make you feel mad, then angry, then doubtful. You begin asking questions that never used to exist in your life: Did I say too much? Was I too available? Am I expecting too much? Meanwhile the avoidant may simply be somewhere trying to restore their sense of space, unaware that their silence has turned someone else’s mind into a courtroom of self-interrogation.

Now here is a rumour that floats around in the streets of psychology, and if you have ever dated long enough, you might start to suspect it is not a rumour at all. They say anxiously attached people and avoidants have a way of finding each other. Almost like magnets. One person craves closeness, reassurance, emotional consistency. The other person instinctively creates distance when things feel too close. One leans in, the other leans out. It becomes a strange dance. The anxious person tries harder. The avoidant steps back further. Not always intentionally, but predictably enough that therapists have probably drawn diagrams about it on whiteboards somewhere.

Which is why curiosity about yourself becomes very useful in this life. Before you spend months trying to decode someone else’s behaviour, it helps to quietly ask: who am I in this equation? Am I someone who needs reassurance? Am I someone who shuts down when things get real? Because the truth is, it is much better to understand these patterns before you experience them than after you have spent months inside the confusion. Knowing your emotional wiring is a little like knowing the weather forecast. It will not stop the rain entirely, but it might save you from walking straight into a storm with open sandals.

Avoidants also have a curious relationship with timing. They come close when things feel light and effortless, and disappear when things begin to require emotional weight. Then sometimes they return again once distance has reset the tension. Approach, retreat, approach again. Not always malicious, many avoidants are simply protecting themselves in the only way they know how. Somewhere along the line closeness began to feel dangerous, so they keep one foot near the exit, just in case. But for the person on the other side, it can quietly take a toll. Months can pass in that rhythm. Months of wondering. Months of processing. Months of trying to understand a person who themselves may not fully understand what they are doing.

Eventually you begin to feel something you cannot quite name at first. They make you cry more than you expected. They make you scared. They make you angry. They make you doubt yourself. They take more from you than they ever intended to take. And the strange part is that they may genuinely like you, they just cannot stay steady in the closeness.

Which brings me to my humble proposal for the modern dating ecosystem: avoidants should date avoidants.

Imagine the peace. Two people who both appreciate distance. Two people who do not mind long pauses between emotional check-ins. Two people who text once every few days and both feel perfectly comfortable with that rhythm. No chasing. No emotional tug-of-war. No one asking, “Are we okay?” while the other person contemplates a three-day silent retreat.

Meanwhile the rest of us can choose something simpler. Someone who can sit with us in the sun and in the mud. Someone who sees us and understands that being chosen is not a small thing. Someone who treats closeness with care, not like a temporary arrangement or a place to visit when it suits them. Someone who stays when the conversation deepens and the feelings become real. Someone who does not treat hearts like revolving doors. Someone who understands that being trusted with another person’s tenderness is sacred work. Someone who shows up without being chased, who does not come and go with convenience, just, someone who stays.

If you ever find yourself tangled in the storm of an avoidant again, remember this like advice from an older sister: you do not have to keep proving your worth to someone who is afraid of closeness. Let them be. The kindest thing you can do for yourself in this case is step aside, learn who you are in the dance of attachment, and let these avoidants find each other. Please.