he won't commit but won't let me go

He sat across from me in our apartment when I finally said it in April. The conversation I’d rehearsed, the one I’d been circling for months.

“If you’re not planning to propose in the next year or two, I need to reevaluate.”

He didn’t argue. He was firm: he didn’t know when he’d be ready and didn’t like being “forced into a timeline.” We’d been together almost nine years, since we were fifteen. I wasn’t asking to get married right away—just to know we were headed in the same direction.

A few days later, he brought it up again. He said he’d seen his friends “having fun” being single, dating around, and it made him wonder if he was missing out. He said he wanted to marry me, but he was afraid of the “what if” that wouldn’t go away. His idea was a month-long break so he could confirm if I was the woman for him. He promised he’d have a definite answer about marriage after.

I was angry. I told him I wasn’t giving him a month-long pass to sleep with other women before deciding if he wanted to marry me. That time, we argued. I still feel angry about the nerve of it.

I didn’t leave then. It took another month. I finished grad school, started my analyst job, and, still hoping things would work out, signed another year-long lease at our apartment. My parents helped me pay to break it.

The breakup itself wasn’t hard. By then, resentment had built up. I moved out and into a studio within a week.

The first month was brutal. I didn’t cut contact. We didn’t talk for a few days after I moved, but I broke no contact first. I was miserable, crying, feeling so alone. Leaving after being with someone for that long—almost every bit of who I was tied to him. Our friends, our families, everyone in the new city knew us as a couple. Almost everyone who knew me, knew him, and vice versa. That doesn’t really occur to you until you’re no longer together.

We chatted for a bit, and he asked to meet up. I did. We hooked up and I left feeling hollow.

I visited my parents the following week. They talked some sense into me. Neither of them really cared for my ex. They felt I was too mature for him and worried he’d hold me back, though they’d never said so before. They talked about how much I’d accomplished as a young adult, that I was educated, a catch, and still had plenty of youth left to find myself or someone else. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

It still took a while before I fully committed to no contact. I almost got back together with my ex twice. But it’s been over three months since I last talked to him—he’s blocked everywhere now—and I’m feeling so much better.

Since the breakup, I started going to the gym and joined a yoga club, where I met a group of women I’ve grown close to. One of them married her high school sweetheart and has two kids. Hearing her story and comparing it to mine was like night and day. She married way younger than I’d be comfortable with, but there was never any questioning her husband’s intentions, never begging for answers. It was eye-opening to see that in real life.

I’m doing great at work, going out more, reading, and I started therapy. It almost feels like I’m just now entering actual adulthood.

I don’t know when I’ll date again. I definitely would still like to be married one day, but it’s not a priority for me right now. I miss my ex and am thankful for the role he played in my life, but leaving has made me realize I want my own identity before tying myself to anyone else.