• When I started dating a woman, she got engaged to someone else; we kept our relationship going.
• For two years, I was the lover, and I became a toxic version of myself, wanting her approval.
• Finally, I realized I deserved better than her and got myself out of the situationship.

Of all the love stories in existence, there was one I never wanted to be part of — an affair, especially if it meant being the other person, the lover.

But for two years, I dated a woman who was engaged to another man. I swore I would never find myself in that type of relationship, but it felt like it “just happened.” I felt powerless to the draw of the toxic relationship.

At first, I was tempted by the chase, and then I was seeking her validation. I wanted to be chosen. I wanted to be loved.

Over two years, I became a toxic version of myself that I didn’t recognize. But, in the end, I learned that I deserve so much more.

I felt the thrill of the chase

We met while getting our master’s degrees at a school in New York. At the time, she was already dating someone, but she promised she was going to break up with him. I felt hopeful; I really thought she would leave him to be with me. This all changed when she told me about her engagement. My heart broke; I felt helpless and betrayed. How could she say yes?

For a moment, I took a step back and removed her from my life. But things got complicated when I realized she still wanted me. She wasn’t exactly clear about what she wanted with me, but she kept on seeing me. It wasn’t sex, but we had intimacy; it wasn’t dating, but we were together.

Once I realized I was going to be her lover, I decided to go all in. She became this forbidden thing — something I could not have — so she became all the more attractive to me.

She became someone I would always be chasing, and that was thrilling from the onset. The chase was more important than the relationship itself.

She became the one with all the power

When I continued my relationship, I agreed to certain terms and conditions. The rules were more strict now that she had a ring. I met her only when she was available. I couldn’t message her without her authorization. I had to go at her own pace. She was fully in charge. I had very little say in our relationship.

To be fair, at the beginning, I was OK with that. It felt like a breath of fresh air — something new and exciting. I didn’t have to drive the car. All I wanted was to enjoy the ride.

But as we progressed, things changed. I demanded more power and changes to my status. I needed more attention and time from her. I wanted to hold her hand in public and go on normal dates. I wanted some of what he had. None of that was possible because we were in a lie.

Suddenly, I wasn’t the sweet, romantic escape she enjoyed anymore. I became a toxic version of myself. My former love messages turned into emotional blackmailing. I threatened to tell her fiancé about our relationship.

After two exhausting years of trying to convince her to pick me, I reached a point where I was just there to prove to myself I could win. By then, I’d invested so much energy, time, love, and money that retiring from the race seemed like a bigger mistake than staying there.

It wasn’t about the chase anymore. I was trapped between the obsession of finally getting her and the feeling of never winning her over.

I finally learned the importance of self-love

I chose to stay in that awful situation because that was how much I cared about myself back then. I didn’t believe I deserved anything else. No matter how many people told me I could do much better, I never truly felt it until I touched rock bottom.

Thankfully, I finally saw that I deserved better. I came to the realization that she didn’t consider me special, and it allowed me to accept that there was nothing special about her as well. It opened my eyes and initiated my path toward becoming a more rational being. I officially ended our situationship after two years.

I will always be a hopeless romantic, but now, I know that love is not about the “thrill of the chase” or looking for someone’s acceptance. It is about finding peace — first with yourself and then with somebody else.