I Feel Like My Boyfriend Hates Me
It’s a thought that creeps in, usually at 2 AM. You're scrolling through your phone. He's asleep next to you, a peaceful lump. Then, BAM! The feeling hits you. “He hates me.”
It's a ridiculous thought, right? He just bought you that weirdly specific brand of fancy cheese you love. He endured your cousin’s painfully long engagement story. He even pretended to like that artisanal pickle he actually thought tasted like old socks.
But still, the feeling persists. It’s like a tiny, annoying gremlin who whispers doubt. He’s not calling. He’s not texting back immediately. That’s it. He’s clearly plotting his escape. Or worse, he’s secretly joined a cult that hates girlfriends.
Let’s be honest, this feeling isn't about him. It’s about us. It’s about that little voice that says, "What if I'm not good enough?" The one that wakes up when things are too quiet. The one that sees a dropped fork as a sign of impending doom.
Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe he’s deep in thought about whether or not to buy that second bag of chips. The possibilities are endless, and unfortunately, so are our overthinking brains.
I remember one time, he was quiet for a whole car ride. Just staring out the window. My mind went into overdrive. Was he regretting this relationship? Was he composing his breakup speech in his head? Was he secretly a spy who had just received a coded message to abandon ship?
Turns out, he was trying to remember if he’d turned off the stove. The stove, people. My dramatic internal monologue was about appliance safety. I’m not even kidding.
Then there are the times when he’s just… not paying attention. You’re talking about your day, your dreams, your existential dread. He nods. He says, "Uh-huh." And then he asks if you’ve seen his keys. The keys he was holding five minutes ago.
This is where the gremlin really goes to town. "See? He doesn't care! He's not listening! He probably thinks your entire life story is boring! You should just pack your bags and move to a remote island where only alpacas understand you."
But then he finds his keys. And he looks at you with those sweet, slightly confused eyes. And he asks if you want pizza. And suddenly, the gremlin is silenced. For now.
It's the little things, isn't it? The way he folds the towels. Or doesn’t fold the towels. Or the way he leaves the toilet seat up. Or down. Or sideways. Every minor infraction can feel like a personal attack when you’re in this headspace.
I once spent an entire evening fuming because he didn’t immediately notice my new haircut. I’d spent hours on it! It was a subtle, sophisticated change, designed to make him gasp. He didn’t gasp. He just asked if I’d seen his favorite socks.
My inner monologue was a symphony of despair. "He's blind! He's uncaring! He probably doesn't even know my name! He probably calls me 'Hey You' when I'm not around!" The socks, of course, were buried under a pile of laundry he’d forgotten to put away. Classic.
It’s the silence that gets me. A comfortable silence is one thing. But a charged silence? That’s where the paranoia lives. You’re sitting on the couch, watching TV. He’s scrolling on his phone. The TV is blaring, but you can hear the tiny gremlin in your ear: “He’s ignoring you. He’s bored. He’s fantasizing about a life without your endless chatter. He probably wishes he was out with his friends right now, talking about anything but you.”
But then he’ll suddenly say, "Hey, did you hear that? That was a really good part." And you realize he was actually invested. He was just processing the plot. Or maybe he was just waiting for a commercial break to ask about the socks again.
It’s the lack of immediate validation. We live in a world of instant gratification. A quick like on a photo. A rapid-fire text response. When that doesn't happen in our personal lives, our brains can invent all sorts of dramatic scenarios.
He’s not instantly replying to your “Thinking of you!” text? Clearly, he’s with someone else. Or he’s on a top-secret mission to save the world and your text is currently cluttering his comms device. Or he’s simply forgotten how to use his thumbs. The possibilities are truly endless and equally terrifying.
And then, of course, there’s the infamous “lack of affection” phase. You’re craving a cuddle. You’re yearning for a “baby, I love you.” He’s just… there. Existing. Maybe he pats your head. That’s it. A pat. Not a loving embrace, but a gentle pat, like you’re a particularly good dog who’s just learned a new trick.
My gremlin would be screaming at this point. "He's over you! He's moved on! He's probably already downloaded Tinder and is crafting a witty bio! You're just a roommate now, a slightly annoying, messy roommate!"
But then, later that night, he’ll roll over and pull you close. He’ll whisper, “You’re so warm.” And you’ll realize he was just tired. Or lost in his own thoughts. Or maybe he was just waiting for the perfect moment to deploy the affection bomb.
It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. To admit that sometimes, in the quiet moments, the doubt creeps in. That you can feel like your boyfriend, the guy who knows your deepest fears and still chooses to stick around, actually hates you.
It’s not about his actions. It’s about our own internal storms. It’s about the insecurity that flares up when we feel a little bit unseen, a little bit unheard. It's about the overthinking champion within us who is always ready to declare a relationship crisis over a misplaced sock or a delayed text.
So, the next time you feel that familiar pang, that whisper of doom, take a deep breath. Remember the fancy cheese. Remember the engagement story he endured. Remember the artisanal pickle. He probably doesn't hate you. He's probably just trying to find his keys. Or contemplating the profound implications of a dropped fork. And that, my friends, is a much more hilarious reality.
Perhaps we should start a support group. “I Feel Like My Boyfriend Hates Me: And He Probably Doesn’t, But It’s Fun to Worry.” We can meet over pizza. And maybe some of that fancy cheese.
"The gremlin whispered, 'He hates me.' I whispered back, 'He probably just needs a snack.'"
It's a constant battle between our rational minds and our dramatic inner theater. And let's be honest, the theater is often much more entertaining, even if it's completely unhinged. So go ahead, have a laugh at your own overthinking. It’s a sign you’re alive. And that your boyfriend, bless his heart, is likely just blissfully unaware of the existential dramas you’re staging in his honor.
Because in the grand scheme of things, a little bit of temporary paranoia is a small price to pay for love. And the occasional story about misplaced socks. Always the socks.