He’s Not Emotionally Unavailable, He’s Just Spiritually Inactive

He journals. He breathes. He microdoses.
He even sends playlists that start with James Blake and end with something French.
On paper, he’s the kind of man who “gets it.”
In real life, he’s the kind of man who only gets it in theory.

He told me he wasn’t emotionally unavailable — he was just “recharging.”
He said this while making eye contact with a succulent.
When I asked him what he wanted out of dating, he paused and said, “That’s a question you ask before you meet someone.”
And then he smiled, like that was wisdom.

Let me be clear: this man is not a jerk. He’s not rude. He doesn’t raise his voice.
He just disappears whenever feelings show up with real clothes on.
He’ll compliment your aura, but ghost you if you mention scheduling.
He’ll ask about your childhood trauma, but flinch if you say “next week.”
It’s not malicious. It’s not personal.
It’s just that he’s currently more emotionally committed to his eucalyptus diffuser than to you.

He isn’t emotionally unavailable. He’s spiritually inactive.
It’s not that he doesn’t want connection. He just wants it to float to him through a guided manifestation that never has to be negotiated, named, or — god forbid — defined.

When I asked him where he sees himself in a year, he said, “Somewhere peaceful.”
When I asked him where he sees us, he said, “Still evolving.”
Then he offered me cacao and a link to his SoundCloud.

These men don’t break your heart. They just never pick it up in the first place.
And when you finally stop responding, they say “no pressure, just vibes” and float into the next conversation like nothing happened.

Because in 2025, the new face of emotional avoidance doesn’t yell or lie — it meditates, drinks tea, and pretends being “present” is a personality.