Cuffing Season Is About Comfort, Not Love—and This Is What It Does to the Person Left Behind
A psychological deep dive into cuffing season, emotionally unavailable men, and why being “a maybe” hurts more than rejection.
You’re Still in His Phone as “Maybe”
📍 The Patron Saint, Mass Ave, Indianapolis, IN
🕐 Saturday, 9:34 PM, Mid-March
🌡️ 58°F, first warm night of the year
THE INVITATION
Hey, you.
I need you to come with me somewhere, and I’m warning you right now—this is going to hurt.
We’re heading to The Patron Saint on Mass Ave. You know the place—exposed brick, craft cocktails, that bar where everyone goes when they want to be seen. It’s March 15th, 58 degrees, and this is the first Saturday night warm enough that people aren’t wearing coats. The patio is packed. Spring energy is in the air. Everyone’s out. Everyone’s alive again after the long Indiana winter.
And 29-year-old Amber Keller just walked in alone.
She’s here meeting Jess for drinks. Just the two of them. Girl’s night. Except Jess is running late, and Amber just texted “I’m at the bar” and walked through the door.
And right there—RIGHT FUCKING THERE—at a high-top table near the window, is Derek Mitchell.
With someone else.
A blonde. Early twenties. Laughing at something he just said. His hand is on the small of her back.
And Amber just stopped walking.
You and I are right behind her. We’re about to watch this unfold. And then—THEN—we’re going back to November. Back to that coffee shop. Back to when Derek looked Amber in the eyes and promised he was different.
You ready? No, you’re not. Neither is she.
Let’s go.
THE ARRIVAL: MARCH 15TH, 9:34 PM
Amber’s frozen in the doorway. The Saturday night crowd swirls around her—people squeezing past to get to the bar, groups laughing, couples holding hands. The air smells like bourbon and expensive perfume. Someone’s playing “Cruel Summer” on the jukebox.
She’s wearing jeans and a black tank top. Hair down. Makeup done. She looks good—she spent 40 minutes getting ready. This was supposed to be a celebration. First warm night. New season. New chapter.
Derek hasn’t seen her yet. He’s leaning into this girl—this fucking GIRL who looks like she just got her first legal drink—and he’s doing that thing. That smile. The one Amber thought was just for her.
AMBER: (to herself, barely audible) “No. No no no no—”
Her phone buzzes. Jess: “Parking is INSANE. Be there in 10. Get us a table?”
Amber doesn’t respond. She’s staring.
The blonde laughs again. Throws her head back. Derek’s hand moves from her back to her shoulder. Intimate. Comfortable. Like they’ve done this before.
[You’re standing right next to Amber. You can feel her breathing change. What would you do right now? Stop her from going over there? Or let this play out?]
Someone bumps into Amber from behind.
RANDOM GUY: “Excuse me—oh, sorry, are you going in or…?”
Amber steps aside. Lets him pass. She should leave. She should turn around and walk back out and text Jess to meet somewhere else. Anywhere else.
But she doesn’t.
She walks toward the bar. She’s going to walk right past their table. She has to. There’s no other way to get to the bar without passing them.
Ten feet away. Eight. Six.
Derek looks up.
Their eyes meet.
And for one second—one perfect, horrible second—his face does something. A flicker. Shock. Maybe guilt. Maybe annoyance that she’s here.
Then he smiles. That easy, casual smile. Like nothing’s wrong.
DEREK: “Amber! Hey!”
The blonde looks at Amber. Confused. Curious.
Amber stops walking. Her hands are shaking. She shoves them in her pockets.
AMBER: “Hey.”
DEREK: (standing up, confident) “What are you doing here?”
[What the fuck kind of question is that? You want to say something. Should you?]
AMBER: “Meeting Jess.” (pause) “What are YOU doing here?”
DEREK: “Oh, uh, this is Madison. We work together.” (to Madison) “This is Amber. We, uh… we hung out for a while.”
Hung out for a while.
Not “dated.” Not “she was my girlfriend.” Hung out.
MADISON: (friendly, oblivious) “Oh my god, hi! Derek’s told me so much about—wait, no, I don’t think he’s mentioned you. But nice to meet you!”
He hasn’t mentioned her.
AMBER: (to Derek, voice tight) “Can I talk to you? For a second?”
DEREK: (glances at Madison) “Uh… now?”
AMBER: “Yeah. Now.”
DEREK: (to Madison) “Give me one sec, okay?” (to Amber) “Let’s go outside.”
OUTSIDE THE PATRON SAINT: 9:38 PM
The patio is packed. They find a corner by the railing. Downtown Indy lights glow in the background. People are laughing. Having the time of their lives. Spring is here. Winter is over.
Amber’s arms are crossed. Derek’s hands are in his pockets. He looks… annoyed? Like she’s interrupting something.
AMBER: “So. Madison.”
DEREK: “Yeah. We work together. I told you.”
AMBER: “When did you start working together?”
DEREK: (pause) “A few months ago. Why?”
AMBER: “A few months. So… when we were together.”
DEREK: “Amber—”
AMBER: “How long have you been fucking her?”
DEREK: (looking around, voice low) “Jesus. Can you not—we’re in public—”
AMBER: “How. Long.”
DEREK: (sighs) “I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”
AMBER: “You told me you needed space. You told me in February you were ‘working on yourself.’ You told me you weren’t ready for a relationship. And here you are, five weeks later, with your hand on some 22-year-old’s back.”
DEREK: “She’s 25, actually—”
AMBER: “Oh, FUCK YOU.”
People on the patio turn to look. Amber doesn’t care anymore.
DEREK: (defensive) “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry it didn’t work out with us. But we broke up. I’m allowed to move on.”
AMBER: “We didn’t break up. You ghosted me. You stopped responding to my texts and then sent me some bullshit paragraph about ‘needing to focus on yourself’ and then BLOCKED ME.”
DEREK: “I didn’t block you—”
AMBER: “Your Instagram is private to me, Derek. I checked.”
He doesn’t deny it.
AMBER: (voice breaking) “You told me you wanted a relationship. You told me I wasn’t temporary. You deleted your fucking Hinge app in front of me. And the whole time—the WHOLE TIME—what? You were just waiting for it to get warm again so you could trade me in?”
DEREK: “That’s not—it wasn’t like that—”
AMBER: “Then what was it like? Tell me. Make it make sense.”
Derek runs his hand through his hair. That gesture she used to think was cute.
DEREK: “Okay. Real talk?” (pause) “It got too serious too fast. I wasn’t ready for how intense you were. The anxiety, the constant need for reassurance, the—”
AMBER: “The what? Say it.”
DEREK: “The emotional stuff. It was a lot. And I tried. I really did. But by February, I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”
AMBER: “So you lied to me in November. When you said you wanted me. When you said you weren’t Tyler.”
DEREK: (quiet) “I thought I was ready. I was wrong.”
There it is. The truth. Simple. Devastating.
AMBER: “Did you ever actually like me? Or was I just… convenient? Someone to text when it was cold and dark?”
DEREK: (pause too long) “I liked you.”
Liked. Past tense.
AMBER: “Does Madison know? That you did this exact same thing to someone else three months ago?”
DEREK: “It’s not the same—”
AMBER: “Does. She. Know.”
DEREK: “No. Because there’s nothing to know. We’re just hanging out. It’s casual.”
And there it is. The pattern. The exact same words. The exact same setup.
AMBER: “You’re going to do it to her too. You know that, right? Come November, you’ll be ready to make it official. Come March, you’ll need space.”
DEREK: “You don’t know that.”
AMBER: “Yeah. I do.”
Derek’s phone buzzes. He glances at it. Madison texting him: You good?
DEREK: “I need to get back inside.”
AMBER: “Of course you do.”
DEREK: (softening slightly) “Amber. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I wasn’t the right person for you.”
AMBER: “No. You were just the available person. And I was stupid enough to think that meant something.”
Derek doesn’t argue. He turns to go back inside.
AMBER: (calling after him) “Hey. Derek.”
He turns.
AMBER: “What’s my name saved as in your phone? Right now. What does it say?”
Derek’s face does something. He knows.
AMBER: “Show me.”
DEREK: “Amber—”
AMBER: “Show me.”
He pulls out his phone. Unlocks it. Tilts it toward her.
The contact name: Maybe
Not “Amber.” Not “Amber ❤️” like it used to be.
Maybe
Like she was a maybe all along.
AMBER: (voice dead) “Get the fuck away from me.”
Derek goes inside. Amber stands there on the patio, watching through the window as he sits back down with Madison. Watching as Madison asks if everything’s okay. Watching as he says something that makes her laugh. Watching as he picks up his drink like nothing happened.
Jess appears next to Amber. She must have just arrived.
JESS: “Babe? You okay? You’re not at the bar—” (follows Amber’s gaze) “Oh my god. Is that—”
AMBER: (still staring through the window) “Yeah.”
JESS: “With someone else?”
AMBER: “Yeah.”
JESS: “Do you want to leave?”
AMBER: (quietly) “No. I want to rewind.”
JESS: “What?”
AMBER: “I want to go back. To November. To when he asked me to make it official. And I want to say no. I want to see what he was really doing.”
JESS: (gently) “Babe—”
AMBER: “Can we do that? Can we go back?”
YOU: [What would you tell her right now?]
REWIND: NOVEMBER 23RD, 8:47 PM
[FOUR MONTHS EARLIER]
📍 Monon Coffee Company, Broad Ripple, Indianapolis, IN
🕐 Saturday, 8:47 PM, Late November
🌡️ 33°F, wind chill makes it feel like 28°F
Let’s go back. Let’s watch this again. But this time, you know how it ends. And that changes everything.
There’s Amber. Same person, different timeline. Sitting at that corner table with the cold oat milk latte. Derek across from her, knee bouncing under the table.
This is the night he asked to “talk about where this is going.”
Let’s watch him work.
DEREK: “So. I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”
AMBER: (nervous) “Yeah?”
DEREK: “And I think… I mean, I know it’s only been seven weeks, but I really like you. Like, a lot. And I don’t want to keep this casual anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend.”
[Watch her face light up. Watch her believe him. You know what’s coming. You want to scream at her through time: DON’T DO IT.]
AMBER: “Really?”
DEREK: “Really. I mean, why wait? We’re both clearly into each other. I want to introduce you to my parents at Thanksgiving. I want to make this official.”
AMBER: (hesitating) “It’s just… it’s November. And I’ve been here before. Guy wants a girlfriend right when it gets cold, then spring comes and—”
DEREK: (interrupting, touching her hand) “I’m not that guy. I promise. I actually like you, Amber. This isn’t about the season. This is about you.”
[He’s good at this. He’s so fucking good at this.]
AMBER: “What if you change your mind? What if February hits and you realize—”
DEREK: “I won’t. Look, I get that you’re scared. But I’m here. I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that?”
Amber looks at him. This man who’s been texting her good morning every day. Who sends her memes at 2 AM. Who seems to genuinely care.
AMBER: “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”
DEREK: (smiling) “Yeah?”
AMBER: “Yeah.”
He leans across the table. Kisses her. She kisses back. People in the coffee shop probably think it’s sweet.
But you and I know. We’ve seen the future.
Let’s watch closer. Let’s look for the tells.
NOVEMBER 25TH – THANKSGIVING DAY
Derek texts Amber at 11:47 AM: Hey babe, so my family’s Thanksgiving is getting kinda complicated. Rain check on meeting them? We’ll do it soon. Promise.
Amber responds: Oh no worries! Is everything okay?
Derek: Yeah all good. Just family drama lol. Miss you tho
[He never rescheduled. She never met his parents.]
DECEMBER 7TH – DEREK’S APARTMENT
They’re watching a movie on his couch. Amber’s phone buzzes. She checks it.
DEREK: (glancing over) “Who’s that?”
AMBER: “Just Jess.”
DEREK: “You guys text a lot.”
AMBER: (laughing) “She’s my best friend. That’s what we do.”
DEREK: “Yeah, but like… don’t you think you’re a little dependent on her? Like, you tell her everything.”
AMBER: “Is that a problem?”
DEREK: “No, it’s just… I don’t know. Feels like she’s always in our business.”
[He’s isolating her. Subtly. Testing boundaries.]
AMBER: “She’s just looking out for me.”
DEREK: “From what? From me?” (laughing like it’s a joke) “I’m your boyfriend now. I’M looking out for you.”
Amber doesn’t argue. She puts her phone away.
DECEMBER 31ST – NEW YEAR’S EVE
They’re at Derek’s apartment. Amber wanted to go out—there’s a party at The Vogue, another at the Crane Bay—but Derek said he wanted “just us.”
They’re on the couch. Ball drop on TV. Amber’s texted Jess “Happy New Year” three times. No response—Jess is at a party.
At 11:47 PM, Derek falls asleep.
Amber sits there, alone, watching the countdown on TV by herself. The ball drops. Confetti on the screen. Couples kissing in Times Square.
She looks at Derek, asleep next to her, mouth open.
She doesn’t wake him.
[She should have left that night. But she didn’t. Because she thought if she just loved him better, he’d stay.]
JANUARY 14TH – TEXT EXCHANGE
AMBER: Hey just checking in. You’ve been quiet today. Everything ok?
DEREK: [Three hours later] Yeah all good. Just busy with work
AMBER: Ok cool. Want to do something tonight?
DEREK: [One hour later] Can’t. Gotta catch up on some stuff
AMBER: Ok. Tomorrow?
DEREK: [No response]
[She texts Jess: “He’s being weird. Is this normal?”]
[Jess: “He’s pulling away. I can feel it.”]
[Amber: “No he’s just busy. It’s fine.”]
JANUARY 22ND – AMBER’S APARTMENT
Derek comes over. Amber made dinner. He barely touches it.
AMBER: “You’ve been distant lately.”
DEREK: “I’ve just been busy.”
AMBER: “With what?”
DEREK: “Work. Life. I don’t know.”
AMBER: “Derek, talk to me. What’s going on?”
DEREK: (frustrated) “Nothing’s going on. Why do you always need to have these heavy conversations? Can’t we just… be?”
AMBER: “I’m not trying to be heavy. I’m trying to understand why you’re pulling away.”
DEREK: “I’m not pulling away. You’re being paranoid.”
[Gaslighting. Classic.]
AMBER: “I’m not paranoid—”
DEREK: “You are, though. Like, you’re constantly checking in, constantly needing reassurance. It’s exhausting, Amber.”
AMBER: (voice small) “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
DEREK: “I just need some space. Like, not breaking up or anything. Just… space.”
AMBER: “How much space?”
DEREK: “I don’t know. A few days? A week?”
AMBER: “A week?”
DEREK: (standing up) “See? This. This is what I’m talking about. I can’t even ask for a little breathing room without you freaking out.”
He leaves. She cries on her kitchen floor for an hour.
[He knew exactly what he was doing.]
FEBRUARY 3RD – TEXT MESSAGE
Derek texts her at 2:34 PM:
Hey. I’ve been thinking a lot. I think I need to focus on myself right now. You’re amazing and you deserve someone who can give you what you need. But I’m not in a place for a relationship. I’m sorry. I hope you understand.
Amber calls him. It goes to voicemail.
She texts: Can we please talk in person?
No response.
She texts: Derek please
No response.
She texts: I just want to understand what happened
Message delivered. Not read.
She checks Instagram. His account is private to her.
He blocked her.
Seven weeks of “I promise I’m different.” Three months of trying. One paragraph to end it.
FEBRUARY 4TH – JESS’S APARTMENT
Amber’s on Jess’s couch, wrapped in a blanket, eyes swollen.
JESS: “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
AMBER: “I don’t understand. He said he wanted me. He said I wasn’t temporary.”
JESS: “He lied.”
AMBER: “But why? Like, what was the point?”
JESS: “The point was he was lonely in November. He wanted someone for winter. And now winter’s ending and he’s done.”
AMBER: “But he KNEW about Tyler. He KNEW I’d been through this before. Why would he do it again?”
JESS: “Because guys like him don’t care. They tell you whatever you need to hear to get what they want.”
AMBER: (crying) “What did I do wrong?”
JESS: “Nothing. You did nothing wrong. He’s just a fucking user.”
AMBER: “He told me I was too anxious. Too needy. Too much.”
JESS: “He made you anxious by pulling away. He made you needy by withdrawing. He’s the one who did this.”
AMBER: “I should have seen it coming.”
JESS: “How? He was good at lying. That’s what manipulators do.”
Amber doesn’t respond. She’s staring at her phone. Derek’s last text. Reading it over and over like if she stares hard enough, it’ll mean something different.
FEBRUARY 10TH – AMBER ALONE
She sees Derek’s Instagram story through a friend’s phone. He’s at a Pacers game. Laughing. Living his life. Thriving.
Caption: Focused on myself 💪 #NewYear #GoodVibes
She’s been crying every day for a week.
He’s at a basketball game.
MARCH 1ST – THERAPY INTAKE
Amber’s sitting across from a therapist in Fountain Square.
THERAPIST: “What brings you in today?”
AMBER: “I can’t stop thinking that it was my fault.”
THERAPIST: “What was your fault?”
AMBER: “The relationship ending. If I’d been less anxious, less needy, maybe he would have stayed.”
THERAPIST: “Did he give you reason to be anxious?”
AMBER: (pause) “He pulled away. He stopped responding. He said he needed space.”
THERAPIST: “So your anxiety was responding to his actual behavior.”
AMBER: “I guess.”
THERAPIST: “Do you think it’s possible he blamed you for the anxiety he created?”
Amber doesn’t answer. But something shifts in her face.
BACK TO MARCH 15TH – THE PATRON SAINT PATIO, 9:52 PM
We’re back. Present day. Amber and Jess on the patio. Derek inside with Madison, doing it all over again.
JESS: “Are you okay?”
AMBER: (watching through the window) “He’s going to do it to her too.”
JESS: “Probably.”
AMBER: “Should I warn her?”
JESS: “Would you have listened if someone warned you?”
AMBER: (pause) “No.”
JESS: “Then let it go. She’ll figure it out. Just like you did.”
AMBER: “It’s not fair. He gets to just… keep doing this. And I’m the one in therapy. I’m the one who can’t sleep. I’m the one who flinches every time someone says they like me.”
JESS: “I know.”
AMBER: “He told me I was too much. And I believed him. For weeks, I believed that I was the problem.”
JESS: “But you’re not.”
AMBER: “Then why does it still feel like I am?”
Jess doesn’t have an answer for that.
They sit there. Amber’s drink arrives—something strong, something she didn’t order. Jess must have got it for her.
AMBER: “I was ‘Maybe’ in his phone. The whole time. I was just ‘Maybe.'”
JESS: “Fuck him.”
AMBER: “I really thought he was different.”
JESS: “I know you did.”
AMBER: “I really thought this time—”
JESS: (grabbing her hand) “Hey. Look at me. You are not too much. You are not too anxious. You are not too needy. He was just too empty to see what he had.”
AMBER: (voice breaking) “Then why didn’t he want me?”
And there it is. The real question. The one that’s been sitting in her chest for six weeks.
JESS: “Because he doesn’t want anyone. Not really. He wants the feeling. He wants the comfort. He wants someone to make winter feel less lonely. But he doesn’t want the person. He’s never wanted the person.”
AMBER: “Will I ever stop feeling like this?”
JESS: “Yeah. But not tonight.”
Through the window, Derek and Madison are laughing. His hand on her back. Same moves. Same playbook.
AMBER: (to herself) “She has no idea what’s coming.”
YOU: [What would you tell Amber right now? Really think about it.]
THE REFLECTION: 10:47 PM, MASS AVE SIDEWALK
We’re walking away from The Patron Saint now. You, me, and Amber (Jess is getting an Uber with her). The streets are packed—first warm Saturday of the year means everyone’s out. Couples walking hand-in-hand. Groups of friends bar-hopping. Spring in the air.
Amber’s been quiet for ten minutes.
ME: “How are you doing?”
AMBER: “I don’t know. I keep thinking about November. About how happy I was. How I really thought I’d found someone who was different.”
ME: “You did everything right. You know that, right?”
AMBER: “Doesn’t feel like it.”
ME: “Derek knew exactly what to say. He knew your history. He knew about Tyler. And he used that information to manipulate you into trusting him.”
AMBER: “Then what was the point? Why go through all that effort if he was just going to leave anyway?”
ME: “Because guys like Derek don’t think they’re lying. They believe it when they say they want you. They believe it when they delete their dating apps. They believe it when they say you’re different. But their belief has an expiration date. And it’s always connected to the weather.”
AMBER: “So what? I’m just supposed to never trust anyone who shows interest in fall or winter?”
ME: “No. You’re supposed to watch what people do. Not just what they say.”
AMBER: “I did watch. He texted me every day. He made plans. He seemed consistent.”
ME: “Until January. Then what?”
AMBER: (pause) “He started pulling away.”
ME: “And when you asked about it?”
AMBER: “He told me I was being paranoid.”
ME: “That’s the tell. When you express a concern and they make you the problem. When your gut says something’s wrong and they convince you you’re crazy.”
AMBER: “My therapist said the same thing.”
ME: “Your therapist is right.”
We stop walking. We’re standing under a streetlight on Mass Ave. Downtown Indianapolis glowing behind us. It’s beautiful. It’s spring. Everything’s supposed to feel hopeful.
But Amber looks tired.
ME: “Here’s what I want you to know. What Derek did wasn’t about you being too much. It was about him being too little. Too shallow. Too selfish. Too unwilling to do the actual work of loving someone past the easy part.”
AMBER: “The easy part?”
ME: “November through January. When it’s all Netflix and sweaters and feeling warm. That’s easy. February through April? When the real person shows up with real needs and real complexity? That’s when you find out who’s actually capable of love.”
AMBER: “And Derek wasn’t.”
ME: “Derek wasn’t.”
AMBER: “So what do I do now?”
ME: “You keep going. You stop checking his Instagram. You stop wondering what you could have done differently. You stop letting him take up space in your head.”
AMBER: “Easier said than done.”
ME: “I know. But here’s the truth: Derek is already doing this to Madison. In four months, she’ll be standing where you are right now, watching him with someone new. The pattern doesn’t change. But you can choose to stop being part of it.”
AMBER: (quietly) “I really loved him.”
ME: “I know.”
AMBER: “I really thought he loved me too.”
ME: “He loved what you gave him. He just didn’t love you enough to give anything back when it got hard.”
Jess walks up, Uber pulling to the curb.
JESS: “Ready?”
AMBER: (to me) “Thank you. For… I don’t know. For seeing it. For believing me.”
ME: “Always.”
She gets in the car. Drives away.
You and I stand there on Mass Ave. Spring night. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s moving on.
Except the people like Amber. The ones who got cuffed and discarded. The ones who are still trying to figure out what they did wrong.
ME: (to you) “So. What did you learn?”
YOU: [Take your time. Really think about what you just witnessed.]
THE TRUTH ABOUT CUFFING
ME: “Here’s what I need you to understand. Cuffing season isn’t about wanting connection. Everyone wants connection. Cuffing season is about using someone for seasonal comfort with an expiration date you’re not honest about.”
ME: “Derek told Amber he wanted a relationship. What he actually wanted was a warm body for winter. He told her she wasn’t temporary. But she was always temporary. He just didn’t have the guts to say it.”
ME: “And when February came and he started feeling trapped? He didn’t break up with her cleanly. He made her feel crazy. He made her feel like her anxiety—HIS anxiety—was her fault. He gaslit her into thinking the relationship ending was because she was too much, when really it was because he was too cowardly to admit he never wanted what he said he wanted.”
ME: “That’s the real damage of cuffing. Not the seasonal relationship. The lie. The manipulation. The emotional destruction of making someone believe they’re unlovable when really, they just loved someone incapable of reciprocating.”
ME: “If you’re a Derek reading this? Here’s what I want you to know: You’re not ‘following your feelings.’ You’re following your comfort. And every time you do this—every November you find a new person to fill the cold-weather void—you’re leaving wreckage behind. Real people. Real damage. Amber’s in therapy now. She flinches when people say they like her. That’s on you.”
ME: “And if you’re an Amber? Listen to me: You were not too much. You were not too anxious. You were not too needy. You were a whole person trying to love someone who was only capable of wanting you.”
ME: “There’s a difference. And you deserve someone who knows the difference.”
EPILOGUE: WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
- Amber blocked Derek on everything that night (March 15th)
- She didn’t warn Madison (though she thought about it every day for a week)
- Therapy continued. Twice a week for a month, then once a week
- April came. Amber didn’t date. Focused on herself for real, not the fake Derek version
- May 2nd, she saw Derek’s Instagram through a friend’s story
- He and Madison broke up. Three months. Same timeline as Amber.
- June, Amber went on one date. It didn’t go anywhere. That was okay.
- July, she finally stopped checking to see if Derek viewed her stories
- August, someone asked her out at a coffee shop. She said yes.
- His name was Marcus. They went hiking. He didn’t try to kiss her.
- September, they were still taking it slow. He was patient with her anxiety.
- October came. Cool weather. Leaves falling.
- Marcus asked to make it official
- Amber said: “Ask me again in March.”
- Marcus said: “Fair enough.”
- March came
- He asked again
- She said yes
- He’s still here as of this writing (November, one year later)
- Derek is on Hinge again
- Madison has a new boyfriend (met him in June)
- The cycle continues
This is still Amber’s story. But it’s not Derek’s anymore.
SAGE’S FINAL NOTE
You just spent thirty minutes watching someone get destroyed by cuffing season. How does that feel?
Different than reading “10 Signs He’s Just Cuffing You,” right?
Because you SAW it. You watched Derek promise her forever in November. You watched him withdraw in February. You watched him blame her for his disinterest. You watched him move on in March like she never mattered.
And you watched Amber stand on that patio, realizing she was never anything more than “Maybe” in his phone.
If you’re reading this and you recognize yourself in Derek? Good. Sit with that discomfort. Think about the person you cuffed last November. Think about what you told them. Think about where they are now.
You did that.
And if you’re reading this and you recognize yourself in Amber? I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You deserved better. You deserved someone who wanted you in July just as much as November.
You weren’t too much. He was just too empty to hold you.
—The Seasoned Sage
[To Derek, Madison, and everyone who will come after: The pattern doesn’t change unless you choose to change it. Winter ends. The person you used to stay warm doesn’t.]
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