i didn’t know there was a test. that’s the part that still trips me up.
if i had known, maybe i would’ve opted out sooner. or maybe i would’ve studied harder, tried to pass, kept things lighter, easier, quieter. but at the time, i genuinely thought we were just… getting to know each other.
he liked to say he was drawn to “low maintenance” girls.
not in a harsh way. not like a warning label. more like a preference he casually dropped into conversation, the same way someone might say they prefer dogs over cats or hate crowded bars. he said it with a smile. like it was harmless. like it was obvious.
i nodded along the first few times. laughed even. i didn’t think much of it. i’ve always been pretty independent, pretty self-sufficient. i don’t need constant reassurance. i don’t ask for much. i thought maybe he was describing me.
looking back, i think he was describing a version of me he hoped i’d stay.
in the beginning, things felt smooth. conversations flowed easily. plans were simple. he liked how “chill” i was. how i didn’t make a big deal out of things. how i was “easy to be around.” those were compliments, right? they felt like compliments at the time.
i noticed how often he contrasted me with other women. exes, dates, vague “girls he’d met before.” they were always too much in some way. too demanding. too emotional. too complicated. i told myself he was just venting. that it had nothing to do with me.
but slowly, i started internalizing it.
i found myself holding back questions. not because i didn’t have them, but because i didn’t want to seem like that kind of girl. the high-maintenance one. the one who needed clarity. the one who ruined the vibe.
so when things felt unclear, i stayed quiet. when plans were vague, i went with it. when expectations were implied instead of stated, i tried to read between the lines instead of asking him to spell them out.
i thought i was being flexible. mature. understanding.
the test, i realize now, was whether i’d keep doing that.
the moment everything shifted was small. so small i almost missed it.
i asked a question.
nothing dramatic. nothing confrontational. just a request for clarity about where things were headed. what we were doing. what he wanted, beyond enjoying my company and appreciating how “low maintenance” i was.
i remember phrasing it carefully. softening my words. making sure i didn’t sound demanding. i even laughed a little, as if to say, this isn’t a big deal, i’m just curious.
his response wasn’t angry.
it was cooler.
his tone changed in a way that was subtle but unmistakable. the warmth dimmed. the ease tightened. he said something like, “i thought you were different,” followed by, “i really don’t like pressure.”
pressure.
that word hung between us, heavy and misplaced.
i replayed the conversation afterward, over and over, trying to figure out how my question had turned into pressure. how wanting clarity had become a flaw. how, in that moment, i’d crossed some invisible line i didn’t know existed.
after that, everything felt slightly off.
he was still polite. still responsive. but the enthusiasm was gone. the jokes felt flatter. the affection more conditional. i could feel myself being reassessed, like i’d revealed something disappointing about myself.
and that’s when it dawned on me.
this whole time, i wasn’t being chosen — i was being evaluated.
every moment i didn’t ask for more had counted in my favor. every time i went along with ambiguity had earned me points. and the second i stepped out of that role, the second i showed i wanted more information, more intention, more honesty — i failed.
i started questioning myself immediately. maybe i was asking too much. maybe it really was too soon. maybe if i’d just waited longer, things would’ve clarified naturally. maybe i should’ve trusted the process.
but then i asked myself a harder question.
why did clarity feel like a risk?
why did asking a simple question cost me warmth?
why did being “low maintenance” seem to mean never needing anything?
i thought about how often i’d heard that phrase before. how casually it’s used. how flattering it sounds on the surface. who wouldn’t want to be seen as easy, relaxed, uncomplicated?
but underneath it, there’s a quiet expectation. don’t ask too much. don’t rock the boat. don’t require effort. stay pleasant.
stay small.
i don’t think he set out to test me consciously. i don’t think he woke up thinking, let’s see how little she needs. i think it was more instinctive than that. a preference shaped by comfort, convenience, and a desire to avoid discomfort at all costs.
and i happened to fit the mold — until i didn’t.
we didn’t have a big ending. no fight, no dramatic goodbye. things just tapered off. messages became shorter. plans stopped forming. eventually, we drifted into that vague nothing space where you’re technically still in contact, but emotionally already gone.
i’m left with questions i don’t have answers to.
did i ask for too much?
or did i just ask too early, before he was ready to acknowledge what he wanted?
or maybe the timing doesn’t matter at all. maybe the answer is simpler and harder to accept: he liked me best when i didn’t need anything.
i’m still untangling that.
part of me wishes i’d stayed quiet longer, just to see what would’ve happened. part of me knows that version of me would’ve been smaller, less honest, more carefully edited.
and i don’t think i want to pass a test that requires that kind of silence.
but some days, i still wonder.
not because i regret asking — but because i didn’t know i was being graded in the first place.
