When Fantasy Crumbles: Love Without the Work

When ‘don’t expect too much from me’ is less about honesty, and more about pre-emptive escape.

"You can’t connect with someone who’s only interested in being admired, not truly known.” - Brianna West

Modern dating often feels like a job interview where everyone wants the perks, but few are willing to do the work.

Many men say they want something real, yet falter when the moment the relationship asks for emotional labour.

They crave the rewards of intimacy—the affection, the comfort of being chosen, the steady support. But when presence, patience, or vulnerability are required, they retreat. I experienced this with The Relational Minimalist: the kind of person who wants connection without complexity. At first, things seemed effortless. He liked the light, easy parts of me—the cheerful, giving, “palatable” version of myself. I wrote handwritten letters, crafted thoughtful gifts, and offered care freely.

But when stress arrived and I needed him to show up with patience or presence, the script flipped. Suddenly, my needs become "too much." My mild, well-managed insecurities were branded as red flags. My depth, once appreciated, became a burden.

That was when I realised something disheartening about modern love—especially for women who enter relationships with clarity, care, and self-awareness. Emotional honesty is too often mistaken for neediness. Vulnerability is treated like a liability. A pattern emerges: too many men cling to the unhealthy fantasy that the “right partner” is someone who never challenges them, never needs them, never disrupts their emotional detachment. When reality cracks that illusion, discomfort is projected outward. The woman, once idealised, is suddenly deemed "too much" or "not the right fit."

And here’s the paradox: the same men who complain about "games" often withdraw from women who show up with directness and decisiveness. Clarity is reframed as "too easy" and therefore unworthy of pursuit.

This isn’t self-protection. It’s self-sabotage masquerading as realism.

So, the question remains:

Why do some men chase connection, only to retreat when intimacy arrives?

One possible answer is cognitive dissonance (Festinger, 1957)—the tension we feel when our actions contradict our values or desires. To reduce that discomfort, we either shift our behaviour or change our narrative. Instead of asking, Why does vulnerability scare me? many retreat. They reframe the partner as "too intense" or "wrong for them," protecting themselves from the mirror of intimacy. But in doing so, they also shield themselves from growth. This is not to say all men are emotionally unavailable. But the pattern is widespread enough that it deserves recognition—for the sake of both those experiencing it, and those unknowingly perpetuating it.

Because over time, repeated withdrawal leaves women who show up with clarity facing something heavy: disillusionment. It’s the painful loss of idealism when reality continually falls short of hope (Niehuis et al., 2015).

Disillusionment isn’t heartbreak, it’s waking up from a dream you were never warned was fiction.

The Take Away

So, how do we break this cycle of emotional avoidance and disillusionment?

• Normalize discomfort in love. There is no such thing as an "easy" relationship. Even the healthiest bond require hard conversations and moments of vulnerability.  These aren’t flaws—they’re the foundation of intimacy.
  

• Turn the mirror inward. Notice your own patterns of avoidance or idealisation. There’s no perfect partner—only the daily practice of showing up for the one you choose.
  

• Value consistency over the chase. If love only excites you when it’s effortless and low-maintenance, you’re chasing an illusion, not a connection.

Real connection isn’t found in avoiding the hard parts. It’s forged in the willingness to sit with them, together.