I’m remaining in a deeply unfulfilling relationship because I’m a 35-year-old woman who feels unattractive. You might assume I’m overstating things—but I’m not. I spent a full decade alone before meeting the man I’m with now, and even he won’t come near me. This is simply the reality I live with: I’m not a physically appealing woman.
Today is his birthday. He’s 49. I bought him a warm sweater and a cake, but he didn’t touch either. I had a wave of sadness last night, and that always irritates him. He told me it was the worst birthday he’s ever had.
I spent the evening crying, locked in the spare bedroom again. It’s become a familiar place. Last Christmas, I gave him a new toaster to replace his broken one. He hated it—it only fits smaller slices. That turned into a full-blown argument.
I feel like I can’t do anything right. Every gesture, every effort, seems to backfire. My daily life feels like a string of errors. I walk through each day bracing for disappointment.
I don’t leave because I know I won’t find another relationship. I still long for love, for tenderness. But ten years ago, I was just unattractive. Now I’m unattractive and aging. That’s the truth I carry.
I dream of a relationship where I’m cherished. But I’ve come to believe that dream isn’t meant for me. I stay because the alternative feels like silence.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m punishing myself. Or if I’ve simply accepted that this is all I’m allowed. I don’t know anymore.
