Both Sides
Two people, two nervous systems, two sets of needs that made perfect sense from the inside — and collided in ways neither expected.
This page presents both people's profiles as they emerge from the data: attachment styles, love languages, core fears, blind spots, and strengths. The numbers are real. The patterns are documented across 132,342 messages. Neither person is the villain.
How they loved: the numbers
A and S shared something remarkable: they spoke the same primary love language. Words of affirmation came naturally to both — A produced 4,158 instances across the relationship, S produced 4,139. Nearly identical. This wasn't a coincidence. It meant that at baseline, they were genuinely wired to make each other feel loved.
But the secondary languages diverged in ways that mattered over time.
Love language comparison
| Love Language | A (giving) | S (giving) | What it means |
|---|---|---|---|
| Words of Affirmation | 4,158 | 4,139 | Near-perfect match — both poured verbal love freely and consistently |
| Quality Time | 2,105 | 1,926 | Both valued presence and shared experience highly |
| Physical Touch | 1,087 | 1,778 | S expressed physical desire 63% more — this gap carried weight |
| Acts of Service | 708 | 481 | A carried 47% more logistical/practical labor |
| Repair Attempts | 1,572 | 1,878 | S had more repair instances — both tried hard to reconnect |
| Joy Expressions | 2,581 | 2,452 | Joy was the dominant emotional baseline for both |
A gave love through words — constant affirmation, encouragement through hard times, poetic declarations, and what the analysis calls "explanatory care." Her October 2017 letter spent hours articulating what she saw in S's character. She used "I love you" not just as expression but as emotional regulation and repair — it appeared after apologies, during de-escalation, and as reassurance during distance.
She also loved through acts of service — becoming the "relationship project manager" who organized, planned, tracked logistics, and managed emotional labor. She maintained S's insurance even after separation because she couldn't bear to see him unprotected. This generosity was genuine and also, over time, unsustainable.
Her quality-time love was rooted in emotional presence, not just proximity. Physical distance alone didn't wound her. Feeling like she was fit around other priorities did.
S gave love through words and physical affection — abundant verbal declarations matched with 1,778 instances of touch-oriented language (63% more than A). His October 2017 letter back to A named her kindness, her depth, and the way her love for people came from somewhere genuine.
He also loved through quality time and presence — wanting to share daily moments, missing A during separations, valuing shared experiences as bonding. His instinct was to be close, to understand, to connect.
Where he gave less was in acts of service: 481 instances to A's 708. This wasn't a lack of love — words and touch were his natural language. But it meant A carried a disproportionate logistical load, and because she was good at making it look manageable, the gap stayed invisible until resentment set in.
Attachment profiles: where the nervous systems diverged
Attachment theory describes the internal models people build about whether closeness is safe. A and S developed opposite protective strategies under stress — and this opposition was the engine that drove most of the relationship's pain.
Measured markers: 183 avoidant (highest), 136 secure, 91 anxious
A's attachment pattern oscillates. She craves closeness AND fears it. When secure, she's warm, present, collaborative, and can see both people's needs. Under stress, she shields — performing "fine" while absorbing strain internally, then withdrawing when the weight exceeds her capacity.
Her avoidant markers — "need space," "shut down," "too much," "overwhelmed" — are her highest category. She named this pattern herself early in the relationship: "shutting down like I do is how I've made it so far. though I know I can't do that to you, and I'm working on it."
Core fears: Being "too much" or inherently unlovable (131 abandonment instances, 68 self-blame instances). Fear of not being seen or affirmed as a woman. Fear that her needs make her a burden. Fear of repeating her mother's patterns.
Under stress: Her affirmation-giving becomes mechanical or disappears. Playful emoji-rich messages go flat. Quality time bids become withdrawal requests. She retreats, sleeps alone, goes quiet. By the time distress is visible, she's already at a 9 out of 10.
Measured markers: 118 anxious (highest), 117 secure, 86 avoidant
S's attachment pattern leans toward pursuit. When connection feels uncertain, his nervous system mobilizes him to close the gap — ask questions, express feelings, seek clarity. When regulated, he's collaborative, empathetic, and can see both perspectives.
His anxious markers — "do you still," "are you sure," "worried that you" — are nearly tied with his secure markers. He has real capacity for healthy relating, but ambiguity and emotional distance are deeply destabilizing for him. His 290 pursuit instances capture this: "what's wrong," "can we talk," "talk to me."
Core fears: Being misunderstood or blamed unfairly (184 explanation-seeking instances). Abandonment through withdrawal (78 instances). Failing as a partner despite trying hard (96 self-blame instances). Being unable to reach A when she shuts down.
Under stress: Question clusters increase ("Are you okay? What's wrong? Did I do something?"). Messages get longer and more detailed. He pursues clarity with increasing intensity. He writes long explanatory messages processing his hurt. His frequency of messages rises when he's not getting a response.
Why this pairing is so painful: A withdraws when overwhelmed → S feels abandoned and pursues → A feels pursued when she needs space → she withdraws harder → S feels more abandoned and pursues harder. This is the classic pursuer-withdrawer dynamic, one of the most well-documented patterns in relationship psychology (sometimes called the "protest polka" in Emotionally Focused Therapy). It's not about bad intentions. Both responses are self-protective. But together, they form a feedback loop that intensifies with every cycle.
What they needed to feel loved and safe
Gender-affirming recognition — identity-level. Not just "I love you" but "I want you," "you're beautiful," "you're my woman" — desire expressed in ways that specifically affirmed her femininity. As she wrote: "Honestly it comes down to not feeling like the girl in a relationship... I really need things that make me feel feminine." This wasn't a preference. It was identity-level necessity.
Proactive pursuit. A needed to be wanted without having to ask for it. The pursuit itself was the message that she mattered enough for someone to make effort. When she had to explicitly request gender-affirming dynamics every time, it stopped feeling genuine.
Early responsiveness. A needed partners who responded to subtle cues of distress — not just blow-ups. So she didn't have to shield until she exploded, perform "fine" until she shut down, or apologize for having needs.
Reciprocal emotional labor. She carried more, consistently, and needed that to be seen and shared.
Clarity and understanding. Ambiguity was genuinely destabilizing. When something felt wrong but wasn't named, he experienced it as walking through a minefield blindfolded. He wasn't being controlling — he needed to understand the emotional landscape so he could navigate it.
Reassurance during disconnection. When A withdrew, even a brief "I need space but I love you and I'm coming back" would have regulated his nervous system. Total silence activated his deepest fears.
Direct, explicit requests. S's natural style of desire was tender and worshipful — as he wrote: "When I'm horny for you all I want to do is caress and kiss you and make you feel beautiful." He was willing to learn A's needs but needed them stated, not signaled.
Safety from shame. When feedback became global ("bare minimum," "chore"), S collapsed into adequacy fear. He needed to feel he was learning, not perpetually failing.
Where each person struggled
Both people had blind spots. Naming them honestly is part of the point of this site — not as blame, but because recognizing these patterns is the first step toward not repeating them.
Shielding as self-erasure. A's instinct to protect S from her pain meant he often had no idea she was struggling until crisis. Her 183 avoidant markers — the highest of any category — represent a pattern of retreating until the weight became unsustainable.
Over-responsibility and self-blame. 68 self-blame instances, often for things outside her control — technical problems, client issues, even missed medications. She slid from "I did something hurtful" to "I am the problem," which kept the focus on her failings instead of the system's structural issues.
Hinting instead of asking. Especially around intimacy: "I thought that night coming down in lingerie would be some kind of sign." Signals that felt obvious to A were invisible to S. The resentment that built from unspoken needs was significant.
Emotional labor she maintained. A carried 47% more acts of service but rarely created space for S to share the load — partly because she feared being "too needy," partly because caretaking was how she showed love.
Verdict language under stress. When A's hurt accumulated and finally emerged, it sometimes came with global evaluative language — "bare minimum," "chore" — that was intended to express magnitude but landed as condemnation.
Pursuing when space was needed. S's 290 pursuit instances represent a nervous system that couldn't tolerate silence. His instinct to engage during A's shutdowns — asking questions, expressing hurt, writing long messages — increased her overwhelm instead of reducing it. The love was real; the timing made it counterproductive.
Long explanatory messages during dysregulation. S's detailed accounts of how A's behavior impacted him were experienced by him as honesty and clarity-seeking. A experienced them as performance reviews during her most overwhelmed moments — one more thing she had to hold and respond to.
Taking withdrawal personally. A's shutdowns were about her own capacity limits, not about S. But without that distinction — which A rarely provided because she was shielding — S had no way to know, and he defaulted to "she's pulling away from me."
Acts of service gap. At 481 instances to A's 708, S's practical support lagged behind his verbal and physical expressions of love. When A was drowning in logistics, words weren't what she needed — she needed someone to take things off her plate.
"Then do it" stance on intimacy. S expected A to initiate her own gender-affirming dynamics, framing it as empowerment: "If you want a certain kind of sex life you have to show me, and make it happen." For A, being asked to direct her own pursuit negated the affirmation entirely.
What each person got right
These strengths are just as real as the blind spots. Both people brought genuine gifts to this relationship.
Extraordinary generosity. 4,158 affirmations, 708 acts of service, 2,581 expressions of joy. A gave love abundantly and consistently — not just in good times, but when S was struggling. She mobilized support without being asked.
Emotional articulacy. Her ability to express complex feelings in writing was exceptional. The October 2017 letter, the January 2021 intimacy conversation — she could name emotions with precision when given processing time.
Self-awareness. A could name her own patterns, identify her triggers, and articulate what was happening in the dynamic — often with striking clarity. She sought understanding actively.
Repair orientation. 1,572 repair instances. Even after painful episodes, she came back with vulnerability and honesty. Her instinct in crisis was toward truth-telling and mutual care.
Supportive presence through S's identity work. When S struggled with faith and sexuality, A was a steady, validating presence — offering support without judgment.
Highest repair count in the relationship. 1,878 repair instances — S worked incredibly hard to reconnect after ruptures. He reached out even when A withdrew, wrote thoughtful messages about feelings and impact, and was persistent in trying to restore connection.
Genuine and consistent verbal love. 4,139 affirmations that weren't performative. His warmth was a steady, reliable current throughout the relationship, not limited to good phases.
Willingness to engage. 290 pursuit instances and 184 explanation-seeking instances. Many people avoid conflict — S leaned in. He didn't deflect or retaliate. He tried to understand.
Joy and playfulness. 2,452 joy expressions. Pet names, excited messages, celebration of small moments. His baseline was warm and enthusiastic.
Capacity for deep empathy. When S slowed down and wrote reflectively, he could validate A's experience and hold both perspectives. His secure capacity (117 secure markers) was real.
If you see yourself in this
The fearful-avoidant / anxious-preoccupied pairing is one of the most common and most painful attachment combinations. If you recognize yourself in either profile, here's what the research and this data both suggest:
If you're the withdrawer: Your shutdown protects you but abandons your partner. The work is learning to signal early — "I'm at a 6 out of 10 and I need an hour, but I'm not leaving" — instead of going silent and letting your partner fill the void with their worst fears.
If you're the pursuer: Your engagement comes from love, but its timing can make things worse. The work is building tolerance for short-term uncertainty — learning that delayed clarity isn't the same as no clarity, and that space offered freely often brings your partner back faster than pursuit.
If you're both: The loop isn't your fault. It's what happens when two nervous systems with opposite default responses try to co-regulate without tools. The pattern can be interrupted — but it requires naming it explicitly, creating agreed-upon rules for timeouts and returns, and probably professional support from someone trained in attachment dynamics (EFT therapy is specifically designed for this).
To see how these profiles played out as recurring feedback loops, read The Patterns. To see the week-by-week data underneath these observations, visit The Data. For the actual words they used, see In Their Words. For the injuries that accumulated and the self-protection patterns that deepened them, see What Got Bruised. And if you recognize yourself here, If You Recognize This is written for you.