Lena and I started talking, and on February 17 I sent Nadya a video of my apartment on WhatsApp and, at the end, invited her to visit. And what was surprising—she didn’t block me for the first time. For me, this was an important moment, as if a sign that maybe the wall of misunderstanding wasn’t so impenetrable after all. I realized that I just needed to find the right approach to convey my thoughts and feelings to her.
When I first told Lena about my problem, about how Natan and Kolya were trying to make me forget Nadya, I was wary of her reaction. From the very beginning, she said, “I see you have a great love story.” That was strange. What the heck? What does a “great love story” have to do with anything? Am I a child in need of such obviously false, cliché words? How could she even know it was a “great story”? All she knew at that moment was that I wanted to re-establish contact with my ex. And that’s it.
As I told Lena about my feelings and about how important it was for me that Nadya didn’t block me after the video, I noticed her indifference. She didn’t ask questions; she wasn’t interested in my inner state or my emotions. In every session she just nodded silently and formally agreed with me.
When I complained about Kolya and Natan, about how they were pressuring me, meddling in my personal life and demanding I forget Nadya, Lena would support me with superficial comments like, “They just don’t have any brains,” or “They behaved badly.” She agreed with my complaints, but did so as if it was all obvious and required no further discussion, never delving into the heart of the problem.
Gradually, I started to understand that Nadya’s presence in my life was helping me to identify inappropriate behavior in those around me. Kolya and Natan, trying to make me forget her, revealed their true attitude toward me—based on stereotypes and labels. This made me realize just how fake these “friends” were, and that I needed to get rid of them. They tried to manipulate me emotionally and put pressure on me because of Nadya, but it was thanks to her that I was able to see their true faces. I shared this thought with Lena, and she even approved of my conclusions.
But later, I noticed that Lena didn’t hesitate to use neuro-linguistic programming (NLP). What is that? NLP is a method of psychotherapy and communication based on the idea that, by using certain words, gestures, and phrases, you can influence another person’s thinking and behavior. It’s a technique in which the interlocutor repeats the thoughts and ideas of the other, gradually “implanting” them as their own to change the person’s perception. Lena did this more than once, and it annoyed me, though I didn’t show it.
For example, after I shared my thought with her that Nadya helps me identify insincere people in my environment, Lena, a few days later, presented this idea as her own, saying, “See, Nadya helps you get rid of bad friends.” She used my words, presenting them as hers.
Another example: one day I said that Nadya left because she was scared—a little girl frightened by all the drama with drugs. Though, to be honest, Nadya herself had come up with this version based on her own assumptions. In reality, it wasn’t a conflict about drugs at all, but an act of crime against me, which she never figured out.
And just two sessions later, Lena, as if from herself, said, “Well, she probably just got scared.” At that moment, I realized these weren’t her own thoughts, but my words “reprogrammed” and presented back to me as hers.
And this wasn’t a one-off—there were different episodes where my words came back to me through Lena as if she’d come up with them herself.
The only time she showed real interest was when she asked, “Does Nadya have any children?” In her mind, she was clearly picturing scenarios far from reality, where I was some kind of stalker, a threat to her imaginary version of things. She asked this question as if trying to make sure I wasn’t a danger to any imaginary children Nadya never had. This only intensified my feeling that she didn’t see the real me, but was just projecting her own fears and assumptions. This wasn’t empathy; it was alienation. Lena treated me like a dangerous child who needed to be appeased so he wouldn’t do anything bad. Lena’s support was fake.
We continued to communicate every week on Wednesdays. I sent Nadya photos, kind messages, and told Lena about it. Lena would just sit, listen, and not ask any questions, just nod.
At some point, I told Lena that Nadya’s boyfriend or husband, whoever he was, was not my competitor. After these words, I expected her to become interested: why do I think that? How did I come to this conclusion? I was waiting for her to start asking questions about my life to understand what made me so confident. I was ready to tell a long story about what I’d been through, how it had influenced my views and conclusions. But Lena just replied, “Yes, he’s not your competitor.” I was shocked. Lena didn’t know my life, my story, Nadya, or her husband or boyfriend. But she immediately agreed! That was just absurd. What is that supposed to be? It’s totally unobjective.
But even more surprising, Lena didn’t even realize how absurd it was. She seemed to think she was doing everything right. Apparently, she thought the main thing was to agree with me on everything instead of going deeper and trying to understand why I thought that way.
In one of these sessions, I told Lena the story of how Natan once said to me, “There are plenty of fish in the sea, you don’t need to cling to one.” I shared my indignation with Lena: “Can you imagine, Lena? But I completely disagree. There aren’t plenty of fish in the sea. There are very few like Nadya.” I was confident in my words—Nadya had unique qualities: leadership skills, strong energy, charisma, charm. There are very few like her. Lena was clearly taken aback by my words because, without a doubt, she totally agreed with Natan.
Lena knew nothing about Nadya’s personal qualities, and frankly, I felt she wasn’t interested. Most likely, she believed the same banality: there are plenty of fish in the sea, and Nadya probably wasn’t anything special. In her view, my “infatuation” didn’t involve a real assessment of Nadya’s unique qualities, just idealization. So of course, Lena couldn’t agree with me. And like any reasonable person, she should have started arguing or at least asked clarifying questions, which I expected. I was ready to explain in detail why I thought that way.
But instead, Lena just said, “Yes, I agree.” That knocked the ground out from under me. She didn’t even give me the chance to explain my position. I thought: fine, and dropped the subject, deciding there was nothing left to discuss.
After these strange agreements, there was another episode. One day I told Lena that as a child I was always curious why bad people behave badly. Why act badly? Why wish harm on anyone? I was curious in this regard, and honestly, I was curious about everything. But Lena immediately twisted everything. She said, “Let’s talk about your childhood. You were afraid of them, right? What made you afraid of them?” I answered, “No, I wasn’t afraid of them, I was just curious.” But she ignored my words and continued asking why I was afraid of some people as a child.
I sat there thinking: what nonsense is she asking? I was curious about what makes a person evil, not because I’d experienced evil or felt fear. Why do you have to encounter evil to be interested in it? I was just curious!
I kept waiting for Lena to finally ask concrete questions about Nadya and how I ended up in this situation. If you want to understand what’s going on, ask me directly! I’d tell you everything, I could even name the dates: when what happened, when my thinking changed, when I made decisions and on what basis. Just ask questions and I’ll explain everything, I thought. But Lena never asked about this. She was always somewhere up in the clouds, distancing herself from real discussions, as if she wasn’t interested.
Over time, Lena started trying to suggest that one day I would “find my people,” which shocked me. She saw it all as if I was complaining about not having friends, though that was far from reality. For me, it has always been important to communicate with people who share my values and views, and I am very selective about this. I have friends all over the world, and I would never hang out with just anyone. But Lena saw it differently. She looked at me as someone who simply couldn’t find friends, and her words made it clear that she saw me as a “loser” in need of her support, not as the mature and selective person I actually am.
At some point, somewhere in the middle of our sessions, Lena began to push the idea that I’d been writing to Nadya all these years simply because I was emotionally dependent on her and needed her support. That completely threw me off. What kind of nonsense is that? What kind of emotional support could I possibly be getting from Nadya if she even deletes her profile photos for me and makes her accounts private, and in general doesn’t react to my presence at all? Nadya has been ignoring me almost since the very first day we broke up.
Not to mention the times when Nadya called the police on me or when we almost threatened each other with criminal charges. Our conflicts were so sharp that what kind of support could there even be? But Lena stubbornly insisted that I apparently needed some kind of “mommy,” and that’s why I kept trying to maintain contact with Nadya.
That’s when I realized Lena’s plan: she clearly thought I was a child looking for a mother figure and that Nadya had played the role of this “mommy” for me. But how could Nadya be my “mommy” if she is six years younger than me? When we met, Nadya had just finished school, and I was already working, had a career. I could have taught and supported her, not the other way around. But Lena didn’t see that. She decided that Nadya was providing me with some sort of emotional foundation, and now she, Lena, had to take over that role.
I realized that Lena had started to position herself as my “mommy,” hoping I would just shift my focus from Nadya to her. This was completely messed up! She gave the wrong diagnosis and started acting totally inappropriately, trying to “treat” me for a problem that didn’t exist. What the hell is that?
At the seventh session, there was a turning point. From the very beginning, Lena tried to behave differently—with a sweet facial expression, as if she were talking to a little child. She clearly thought I was insecure around girls and tried to convince me that “it’s not so scary.” With every word, I became more aware that she saw me as some kind of “dorky” guy who needed encouragement. Lena tried to inspire me, as if I were in despair and just needed to find someone who would “love me.” My God, where did she get all this? She made such a cute face, as if she were talking to a child, trying to seem as kind and caring as possible.
Closer to the end of the session, she suddenly asked, “And who is the best for you?” Without hesitation, I answered, “Of course, Nadya.” For me, this was a simple and obvious answer—a significant part of my story is connected to her, and explaining this to Lena would be difficult. There was too much; I am even writing a book about it. I could have, just to confuse Lena, started listing all the problematic circumstances we faced: chronic misunderstandings, some pretty bad episodes, including situations with her father. But I deliberately decided not to tell Lena about this. I didn’t want to give her a reason to use this information for her own purposes. And besides, why should I discuss someone close to me with a person who is clearly biased toward me? I don’t think it’s right to speak negatively about a loved one to strangers. That’s why I just said simply: Nadya is the best.
But Lena interpreted my answer in her own way, as if I was idealizing her. In her mind, the puzzle immediately came together: “Great, he’s idealizing Nadya.” And when I mentioned that sometimes it’s hard to live alone, but I’m used to it, she immediately decided: “Great, pain of loneliness.”
What was even more absurd, I had already told her that I went to a pick-up school, talked to different girls, developed my communication skills. But she just ignored all that as insignificant. All she needed was to confirm her narrative: “idealization,” “loneliness,” and therefore, “infatuation.” Anything that didn’t fit her template was simply ignored.
And in the end, at the close of the session, she said the phrase, “It’s all clear, it’s infatuation.” That infuriated me. We were already finishing the session, but it left me extremely irritated. At the very least because at the beginning of our sessions she spoke of a “great love story,” and now, without a second thought, calls it “infatuation,” finally revealing what she really thought. What hypocrisy! How can you make such a superficial conclusion based on two loosely connected facts? First, some abstract “idealization.” Of course, if you don’t ask questions about why I think the way I do, it’s easy to come to the conclusion of idealization. But she didn’t even try to understand where my opinion came from. And second—“pain.” Where did this pain come from? Just because I live alone and don’t always manage to keep up with things? It’s so ridiculous that you could say her whole concept was stretched over the globe like an owl. All of this seemed superficial to me and completely disconnected from the real complexity of the situation.
