As Chappell Roan says: “Good Luck, Babe!”
Cami Davila (she/her) // Crew Writer
Mia Rui Chao Antinori (they/them) // Illustrator
When I was younger and had just started dating, there was no term to describe love bombing, or at least I wasn’t aware of one. There were intense feelings and a lack of emotional responsibility, but not a term for every single thing that we were experiencing relationship-wise.
For those who aren’t familiar with this term, let me break it down. According to Wikipedia, love bombing is “an attempt to influence a person by demonstrations of attention and affection.” Usually, that’s followed by ghosting or a drastic change of behavior after that person gets what they want. Validation, control, affection, distractions; love bombing is a type of emotional manipulation.
Sound familiar? I was afraid of that.
With the misfortune of being involved with girls that weren’t sure of their sexual orientation and felt they needed to ‘try it to know if they really like it,’ I have had multiple experiences with love bombing. Now, I understand that those words were an instant red flag and I should have ran away, but I was naive and attached to the idea that maybe everything would turn out to be a love story.
For those who have never been in these situations, spoiler alert: It’s extremely rare for it to end well.
Indeed, it started out like a fairy tale with a lot of messages, video calls, dates and presents. And, after that. . . nothing. Like a cliché love song, I ended up with no closure, no explanations and a broken heart. Because, truly, nothing hurts more than the end of a relationship between two women.
My worst experience with love bombing was when I was 22. My best friend introduced me to a friend of hers. She caught my attention from the start and I made my interest very clear. In one of our first conversations, she told me she had never dated a girl before, but she was open to it, and, of course, I was open to making it work.
We went on several dates. I remember that she used to take a lot of pictures of me and made collages and videos with them. She used to send me huge messages about how much she liked me, saying things like, “Even if it’s too soon, I really appreciate you.” She would give me presents on days that couples celebrated, like Valentine’s Day. Every time I wanted to walk away from the relationship, she made a huge gesture for me to stay.
Dating a woman if you are a woman is not easy, especially if you come from a conservative culture. I grew up in Colombia, a very Catholic country, which made it harder to accept myself under those beliefs. Even though I dressed up as the blue Power Ranger when I was six, I came out almost 10 years after that, and it was a long process for my mom and I to accept that I was going to be different.
It is inevitable that bad things happen in a relationship; the unacceptable thing is being emotionally irresponsible and at least giving a heads-up before ghosting.
One day, after we went to the movies, I invited her to my house for the first time. She walked around my bedroom, paying attention to every single detail and, after a while, she sat down on my bed. My heart beat was increasing with every second that passed by, my hands were sweaty. We laid down and we kissed.
It was the smallest kiss I have ever had, because she quickly interrupted it to tell me, “Agh, I wish you were a man.” I didn’t know what to say. We sat in that awkward silence for a long time. I just wanted her to leave.
I wish I could say that after that night I stopped seeing her, but I didn’t, and that’s on me. I truly liked her and, again, I used to believe in Nicholas Sparks’ stories (the guy that wrote The Notebook). So, we regressed to that typical and unhealthy dynamic; me, knowing that I needed to leave, and her, performing grand gestures.
I started to feel insufficient. I felt that I wasn’t enough, and that this was the reason why she couldn’t decide what she wanted. I mean, she told me loud and clear that I wasn’t what she expected in a partner. I was younger—that was more than four years ago, and yes, those years made a difference in terms of growth—and the only way that I knew how to get over someone and feel cared for again was by dating someone else. It wasn’t an emotionally responsible move on my part, especially because I should be able to care for myself without the approval of others, but it worked. Dating again—outside of that toxic bubble—worked as a mirror, showing me all the bad behavior that I was putting up with.
Now, we share the same group of friends and even though we are polite with each other, we both know how much we hurt one another, and that’s something that you can’t overcome easily.
With time (and other failed relationships, I’ve learned to respect and take care of myself. I also understand the importance of listening to your community when they tell you to get away from there!
In the end, what’s left is acknowledging your emotional responsibility and singing your heart out to Chappell Roan.
“You can kiss a hundred boys in bars. Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling. You can say it’s just the way you are. Make a new excuse, another stupid reason. Well, good luck, babe!”