Before anything else, I need to name the truth: I left this relationship suddenly, not because it wasn’t good, but because the intensity made me feel emotionally claustrophobic, and I wasn’t ready to carry the weight of someone else’s feelings alongside my own.
When I first met A, it was for coffee at the Japanese Gardens. The coffee came and went, but we didn’t stop talking. Long after our cups were empty, we wandered through the gardens, then found a quiet spot to sit and just talked for hours.
Very early on, he recognised that the connection felt was so powerful that we had to pause and ask ourselves if taking our friendship into a relationship was really something either of us was ready for. Looking back, I wish we had been more cautious.
A is an extremely successful finance guy and is openly materialistic and a self-declared capitalist in a way that made me chuckle. He’s the kind of guy who writes a to-do list with a dollar figure next to each task, almost like a personal scoreboard of achievement.
And yet, he also has a remarkable heart for service. He volunteers with the State Emergency Services, helping people at their most vulnerable moments, and contributes in many capacities at his church. He often says that working hard allows him the freedom to give where he truly wants to contribute with a balance of earning and giving that reflects both pragmatism and generosity.
He didn’t fully understand what I do in my advocacy work at first. When he learned my hourly rate, he asked, “If you don’t value yourself, why would others?” It was a lesson in more than money and a reminder that you can do good in the world and still be financially compensated. That clarity about self-worth and value was grounding, especially coming from someone who thinks in concrete, structured terms about success and achievement.
When the NGO where I was a Director encountered some difficulties, A asked for some paperwork on what was being experienced, ran it by a lawyer friend, and arranged for them to help pro bono. It wasn’t taking over or inappropriate—it was him using the resources he had to help in a practical, respectful way. That kind of support, offered with clear boundaries, felt stabilising and empowering.
Our conversations had this playful, hypnotic rhythm. We’d engage in wordplay that escalated, then pause, and one of us would say, “I just don’t know where to go from here.” We’d laugh, reset, and find the flow again. Dating him for a week felt like connecting for a month. A month felt like three. The intellectual alignment was immediate and fulfilling where communication felt effortless yet deliberate.
Early on, he said, “If I haven’t put a ring on your finger by six months, then we are wasting each other’s time.” That honesty was confronting and comforting. For Autistic people, direct communication like this reduces social uncertainty, giving space to relax and be present in the relationship.
Meeting his mum, having her cook dinner, and seeing her approval added another layer. We introduced our kids to each other and attended church together as a combined family. The structure, transparency and emotional honesty of these interactions made navigating a new relationship much easier for me.
When It Ended
Ultimately, we didn’t have the conversations early enough about how our future would look. I didn’t want a predetermined outcome, and I wasn’t ready for an A in my life just yet. I disconnected. It hurt him deeply, and in response, he enrolled in a law degree to “fill up the Monique space.” This experience taught me so much about timing, readiness, and emotional boundaries.
Everything about A is bright, sparkly, and exciting, yet deeply caring, compassionate, respectful, and stimulating intellectually. I can only ever think of him with the greatest care, and I deeply hope that one day we’ll each experience that same kind of connection again, though not with each other.
Reflection Questions for You
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Have you ever stepped away from a relationship not because it was wrong, but because the emotional closeness felt overwhelming?
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Do you recognise moments when connection moves faster than your nervous system can keep up with?
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Have you ever regretted leaving something before you fully understood what you were feeling?
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What kind of emotional pace feels safe and sustainable for you in relationships?
About the Author
Monique Blakemore is an autistic writer, advocate, and NLP practitioner who explores relationships, communication, and the inner workings of the human heart through lived experience. Her work blends personal storytelling with gentle insight, offering support and understanding to those navigating connection in a world that often moves too fast.