I hate situationships…

There are some truths you only accept when you grow up — like the fact that rice tastes better on Sundays, or that certain friendships were actually competitions.

And lately, I’ve had another grown-up realization. But I'll tell you a story first, for context.

So there’s this guy — let’s call him Tom. He meets this girl, Summer, and immediately thinks she’s the one. He’s smitten. Head-over-heels in love! Heart-on-sleeve. And Summer? Well, she tells him straight up that she’s not ready for a relationship(although I think the ‘with you’ was silent). But somehow, they still… do stuff together. You know, those “we’re not really together but we’re definitely involved” vibes. Fast forward: she ends up marrying someone else. And Tom? He’s left processing all of it like he’s been hit by a slow, very quiet train.

Now, she sounds like a terrible person, right? Like, who does that? If you’ve seen the movie 500 Days of Summer, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about. And if you haven’t, just trust me — it’s wild.

And that’s exactly why I hate situationships.

They’re the emotional equivalent of someone giving you garri without water or giving you a spoon without providing the food to be eaten. It's just vibes, dryness, and unnecessary hope. They lure you in with small softness, sprinkle just enough affection to confuse you, then leave you hanging like network in a thunderstorm. And I’ve been thinking about 500 Days of Summer again because once you’ve survived a situationship, you start seeing the signs everywhere.

Summer, from 500 Days of Summer, wasn’t as harmless as we pretend.

In fact… she reminds me of people I know.

The more I think about it, the more I see pieces of her scattered everywhere — in all the almost-relationships, all the mixed signals, all the “I’m not looking for anything serious” texts followed by actions that say the exact opposite.

And that’s why this piece exists.

I don't think Summer was misunderstood. Maybe she was exactly what Tom saw: confusing, inconsistent, and a little too comfortable with emotional blur.

Some persons insist the movie wasn’t about villainizing Tom or Summer, that it was simply a story of mismatched expectations. But lately, I’ve started to wonder if we’ve all been too generous with Summer. Too quick to excuse behaviour that, if anyone else did it, we’d call out immediately.

I know Tom wasn’t perfect, but Summer wasn’t innocent either.

She floated through his life with that soft voice and quirky charm, planting seeds she never planned to water. She said she didn’t believe in love — but she flirted like someone who wanted to be adored. She acted detached — but kept showing up in ways that blurred every boundary she claimed to have.

Tell someone you don’t want anything serious, then laugh with them like you share an inside world?

Act closed off, but open just enough for hope to survive?

That’s not honesty. That’s ambiguity dressed as freedom.

And that’s where the problem is.

Because Summer did give Tom moments that meant something. She did behave like someone who was in it — maybe not fully, but enough to confuse someone who actually cared. She knew he liked her. She saw the way he looked at her. She wasn’t naïve. She knew exactly the effect she had.

Summer didn’t lie — but she didn’t clarify either.

And that half-truth kind of intimacy? It wrecks people.

Tom gets clowned a lot for romanticizing her, but hear me out: he only romanticized what her behaviour implied. When someone keeps showing up, keeps being soft with you, keeps choosing you in small but persistent ways, what are you supposed to think?

And that’s why I blame Summer a little.

And it's not because she didn’t choose him — nobody is obligated to choose anyone.

But because she moved like someone who enjoyed the benefits of affection without wanting the weight of commitment.

She wanted connection without responsibility.

Warmth without clarity.

Company without consequence.

And many of us know someone like that.

Many of us have been with someone like that.

We've probably been that person even.

Summer was detached, yes. But sometimes detachment is just a prettier word for emotional irresponsibility. For getting close enough to feel wanted, but far enough to never be held accountable.

When she told Tom “we’re just friends,” it should have ended there.

But then she kissed him.

Then slept with him.

Then called him her friend again.

Then said she wasn’t looking for anything serious…

Only to meet someone else and suddenly get married like love was a switch that magically flipped.

Come on.

If Tom had done the same thing, we’d call him manipulative.

We’d drag him for sending mixed signals.

We’d say he used her for comfort and refused to define anything.

But Summer? People say she was “just being honest.” I don’t buy that anymore.

Honesty is more than words.

It’s consistency.

It’s clarity.

It’s making sure someone isn’t reading your actions in a way that harms them.

Summer didn’t lie — but she let him assume.

She let him hope.

She let him feel safe in moments where she already knew she wasn’t staying.

And that’s a kind of damage too.

---

I used to think Tom’s heartbreak was his fault.

That he should’ve known better than to fall so deeply.

But now I see that when someone invites you into their world — even halfway — it’s human to believe they mean it.

She kept choosing him halfway. And that half-choosing? It’s worse than rejection.

It keeps you stuck.

It keeps you imagining.

It keeps you holding on to something that feels like a relationship but dies like a misunderstanding.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is step away early.

Be clear.

Draw the line.

Mean what you say instead of whispering mixed messages into someone’s comfort zone.

And Hope is easiest to manipulate when you give it just enough light to survive. At the end of the day, everybody knows what they’re doing. If someone tells you they’re not ready for a relationship, the “with you” is silent. Summer said she wasn’t ready… and then got married. No announcements, no warnings, no “hey, just so you know.” Just moved on, and left hope hanging.

The lesson? And I’m saying this like I’m reminding myself too: don’t fall for half-choosing. Don’t stay for breadcrumbs. Your heart is far too valuable to feed on anyone’s leftovers. If someone tells you they aren’t ready… moveeeeee. Protect your own light. Step away before you start imagining a story that was never yours to live.

Thank you for reading.. song of the week!