My boyfriend died today

My boyfriend died today.
No flowers, no tears, no sad violin music. Just a peaceful death… in my head.
He’s not in a grave. He’s on the blocked list — same thing, really.

How Did It Happen?

I sent him a long, emotionally vulnerable message.
Like, a full paragraph. Poured my soul into it. There were metaphors. There were feelings. A Shakespearean tragedy in WhatsApp form.

And this man-this six-foot stack of audacity—replied:

“Haha ok 😂”

I stared at the message like it owed me money.
Was this his way of processing my emotional spiral?
A “haha ok”?
Sir, I’m not a meme, I’m a woman with issues.

The Funeral Was Quick.

Last seen: 2:47 AM, reading my message like it was a spam email.

Cause of death: Emotional stupidity.

Buried: Beneath screenshots I sent to my girls with the caption “CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?!”

Flowers: Denied. Man was allergic to effort anyway.

Things Got Worse.

I was in full mourning, which, in female terms, means:

No eyeliner.

3-day-old bun that’s become part of my skull.

Googling “do men actually feel guilt?”

Meanwhile, this boy is out there sending me memes with this message:

“This is so you”

His meme cycle didn't stop— but my will to be patient with his WiFi-speed brain definitely did.

And Then… The Twist.

He showed up.
At my door.
With ice cream and that same sheepish expression your dog gives you after destroying your bedsheet.

Said:

“I didn’t realize you were actually upset. I thought you were just… venting.”

And then
He sat down. Listened to my 2-hour TED talk. Nodded like a human. Apologized.
Without saying “if I hurt you.”
Just a proper, respectful, no-filter, full-stop apology.

I was SHOOKETH.

What He Realized:

That “haha ok” is not a suitable response to a woman spilling her heart.
That when I say I’m “fine,” it doesn’t mean open YouTube and ignore me for two hours.
That curly-haired overthinkers also deserve emotional CPR and snacks.

What I Realized:

Sometimes, people really don’t know they’re hurting you unless you say it.
Properly. Not with silence, not with cryptic Instagram stories.
Just honest-to-goodness communication.

(Ugh, adulting. So annoying.)

Conclusion:

My boyfriend didn’t die.
He evolved.
Like a confused Pokémon who finally grew empathy.

He still says “haha ok” sometimes — but now it’s followed by,

“Wait, is that the wrong thing to say? What do you need from me?”

And just like that, we were okay.

He understood.
I forgave.
The ice cream was shared.
And I? I updated his name in my contacts from “Audacity with Muscles” to
“Trying His Best ❤️”

Moral of the Story:

Don’t cancel him yet, sis.
Sometimes men just need a gentle shove… and a strongly-worded TED Talk at 2 AM.

Because love isn’t about never messing up —
It’s about learning, growing, and figuring it out together.
Even if it means you gotta drag them into emotional literacy with eyeliner smudged under your eyes.

It means showing up in the mess, not just the magic. It’s realizing that love isn’t always poetic or picture-perfect.

Sometimes it’s made of uncomfortable conversations at 2 a.m., apologies whispered between heavy silences, and promises stitched back together after being torn apart.

It’s holding space for each other when the world feels too loud, or too quiet. It’s choosing to understand before reacting, listening even when it’s hard, and staying even when it’s easier to walk away.

Love doesn’t always show up in grand gestures—it’s in the quiet moments when no one else is watching, in the patience it takes to unlearn what hurt taught you.

Sometimes love looks like tears and trembling voices and one person saying, “I didn’t know, but I want to learn.” And the other replying, “I’m here.

Let’s figure it out.” Because love isn’t just about being chosen on the good days; it’s about choosing each other again and again on the hard ones. That’s what makes it real. That’s what makes it worth it.