…
It’s Never Just the D***… Why I Stayed Through Red Flags and Toxic Behavior
…
I’ve said it before—hell, maybe you have too. “I know he’s bad for me, but girl, the dick is just too good.” But if I’m being honest with myself, it was never just about the sex. Good dick can be mind-blowing, but it’s not enough to keep a woman locked in a cycle of toxicity unless there’s something deeper at play.
So why did I stay—even when the red flags were practically smacking me in the face? Looking back, I can see exactly what kept me there.
The Trauma Bond
The extreme highs and lows made the relationship feel electric, like something out of a twisted love story. The kind of passion that wasn’t just felt—it consumed. The fights were brutal, the makeups desperate, and every moment in between felt like waiting for the next explosion. But in those rare moments of tenderness, when he pulled me close and whispered that he couldn’t live without me, it felt worth it. The chaos, the pain, the uncertainty—it all started to seem like proof that what we had was real. After all, love this intense had to mean something, right?
But over time, I realized it wasn’t love—it was addiction. The push and pull rewired my brain, making me crave the highs even more because of the lows. Every time he withdrew, I felt like I was suffocating, and every time he came back, it was like breathing again. The emotional starvation made the smallest gestures feel like grand acts of devotion. And when I thought about leaving, it felt less like freedom and more like tearing myself away from something I wasn’t sure how to live without.
The Hope Factor
I wasn’t in love with him—I was in love with the version of him that existed in my head. The man he could be, the one I caught glimpses of in fleeting moments—when he was soft, when he was sorry, when he made promises with eyes that almost looked honest. I held onto those glimpses like they were proof that the real him was just beneath the surface, buried under his wounds, his past, his “I’m just not good at this” excuses. I thought my love could be the thing that finally reached him, that if I was patient enough, loyal enough, understanding enough, he’d grow into the man I believed he was meant to be.
Spoiler: he didn’t. Because those glimpses weren’t who he was—they were just shadows, illusions I clung to so I wouldn’t have to face the truth. The truth that the man I wanted him to become would never exist, because he had no real desire to change. The truth that I was pouring love into a version of him that only I could see. And in doing so, I abandoned the version of myself that deserved more than waiting on a man to become someone he was never going to be.
Emotional Investment
I had poured so much of myself into him—years of my life, countless tears, and far too many second chances. But I wasn’t just invested in him; I was invested in the story I had told myself about us. Every fight we overcame, every tearful reconciliation, every fragile promise that maybe this time it will be different felt like proof that our love was worth fighting for. And so I fought—I sacrificed my needs, my boundaries, my peace, all in the name of a love that never truly loved me back. Walking away didn’t just feel like losing him; it felt like losing the version of myself who had spent so long believing that if I just tried harder, held on longer, forgave a little more, I could make it work. Leaving meant facing the harsh truth that all the love I had poured into him wouldn’t be returned, and that felt like a loss I wasn’t sure I could bear. So I stayed, convincing myself that if I walked away now, it would mean I had wasted all those years for nothing. I’ve come this far. I can’t just give up now. But what I didn’t realize was that I had already given up—on myself. I had been slowly disappearing, piece by piece, every time I swallowed my pain just to keep the peace, every time I forgave what should have been unforgivable, every time I put his needs ahead of my own. I wasn’t fighting for love anymore—I was fighting to avoid admitting that I had stayed too long. And that realization was what finally broke me. Because when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t even recognize the woman staring back. I had lost her in the process of trying to save him.
Fear of Being Alone
The idea of starting over felt like stepping off a cliff with no guarantee that I’d ever land safely. It wasn’t just about leaving him—it was about leaving the life I had built around him, even if that life was slowly suffocating me. The thought of sleeping alone, of waking up without his presence—even if that presence had become cold and distant—felt unbearable. Who would I be without him? What if I left and realized I had made a mistake? What if no one else ever loved me again? The unknown terrified me more than the pain I had grown accustomed to, so I clung to what was familiar, even when that familiarity was killing me. I told myself that this was better than nothing, that at least with him, I wasn’t completely alone. But the truth was, I was alone. I had been lonely for a long time, even with his body next to mine. I had been aching for something deeper, something real, something that didn’t require me to shrink myself just to hold onto it. And deep down, I knew that staying wasn’t saving me from loneliness—it was only delaying the moment I’d finally have to face it.
Sex That Felt Like Love
Sex releases oxytocin, the bonding hormone. And when he knew exactly how to touch me, it blurred all the lines between lust and love. Even when he was emotionally distant outside the bedroom, those moments of intimacy made me believe we had something real.
Low Self-Worth
I didn’t believe I deserved better—not really. Maybe it was the way I was raised, the relationships I had seen, or the subtle ways the world had taught me that love was something you earned through endurance. Pain and passion had always been tangled together in my mind, as if one couldn’t exist without the other. The love stories I had idolized were never soft—they were chaotic, messy, filled with heartbreak and grand reconciliations. So when love hurt, when it made me question my worth, when it kept me up at night wondering if I was enough, I didn’t see that as a warning sign—I saw it as proof that it was real. After all, if love was easy, if it didn’t break me apart and force me to fight for it, how could it possibly be deep enough to last? I had been conditioned to believe that the more I suffered for love, the more valuable it was. That staying through the worst of it meant I was strong, loyal, worthy. But in reality, all it meant was that I had learned to mistake pain for devotion, to accept the bare minimum and call it love, to give and give until I had nothing left—only to be grateful for the scraps that were handed back to me. And until I unlearned that, I would keep choosing men who made me prove my love instead of ones who simply gave me theirs.
The Ride-or-Die Mentality
I was loyal—to a fault. I thought real love meant standing by his side through everything, even when “everything” was breaking me. I wanted to be the one who stayed, the one who proved my love. But loyalty shouldn’t come at the cost of my own well-being.
The Comfort of Chaos
Dysfunction felt like home, like something I could navigate with my eyes closed. I had grown up believing that love was supposed to be a battle, that the more it hurt, the deeper it must be. The highs and lows, the push and pull—it all felt normal, even addictive, because it was what I had always known. I convinced myself that passion and pain were two sides of the same coin, mistaking chaos for chemistry. But love isn’t supposed to feel like survival, and it took me far too long to realize that the kind of love I was fighting for was never truly loving me back.
Leaving a toxic relationship is hard—emotionally, mentally, and sometimes even physically. But it is possible, and you can break free. Here are some concrete steps to help you cut ties and reclaim yourself:
1. Acknowledge That Love Isn’t Enough
No matter how much you love him, no matter how much potential you see, love alone won’t fix a toxic relationship. If he truly wanted to change, he would have already taken action—not just made empty promises. Let go of the hope that he will suddenly become the man you’ve been waiting for.
2. Make the Decision and Commit to It
You don’t need more proof that the relationship is harmful—you already know it is. Stop waiting for one final betrayal to push you over the edge. Decide that you are done, and remind yourself every day why you deserve more.
3. Cut Off All Contact (If Possible)
Block his number, unfollow him on social media, and resist the urge to check in. Toxic partners know how to pull you back in with just a few words—don’t give him the opportunity. If you must stay in contact (because of shared responsibilities like kids), set strict boundaries and limit communication to what is absolutely necessary.
4. Create a Support System
Tell people you trust—friends, family, a therapist—that you are leaving. Let them help you stay accountable, remind you why you’re walking away, and offer emotional support when you feel weak. You will have moments where you second-guess yourself, and you need people who will remind you of the truth.
5. Prepare for the Emotional Withdrawal
Leaving a toxic relationship can feel like quitting an addiction. You might miss him, crave his attention, or feel an overwhelming urge to go back. Recognize these feelings for what they are: withdrawal, not love. Instead of acting on them, ride them out—journal, go for a walk, call a friend, do anything other than reaching out to him.
6. Fill the Void With Things That Heal You
After being consumed by a toxic relationship, you may feel lost without it. This is your chance to rediscover yourself. Reconnect with hobbies, passions, and people you may have neglected. Start therapy, take a class, or do something new that reminds you who you are outside of him.
7. Accept That Closure Comes From You, Not Him
You will never get the perfect apology, explanation, or moment of validation that makes leaving easier. Stop waiting for him to acknowledge what he did or to make things right. Closure isn’t something he gives you—it’s something you create for yourself.
8. Stay Focused on the Bigger Picture
Yes, leaving hurts. Yes, you will have moments of doubt. But every day you stay away is another step toward healing, self-respect, and the love you actually deserve. Remind yourself of the peace, the freedom, and the happiness that is waiting for you once you let go for good.
You are not weak for staying too long. You are not broken for struggling to leave. But you are strong enough to walk away—and once you do, you’ll wonder why you ever thought you couldn’t.
The Real Truth
Yes, good dick can make you think twice. But staying in a toxic relationship is never just about the sex. It’s about the wounds we haven’t healed, the fears we haven’t faced, and the lies we tell ourselves to avoid the truth.
So when I said, “I can’t leave, the sex is just too good,” what I really meant was:
I don’t know how to untangle myself from everything else that’s keeping me here.
And that? That’s the real conversation I needed to have with myself.