Being breadcrumbed is the absolute worst mindf*ck in modern dating, and I would know because I just spent four months thinking this guy actually liked me when really he was just bored on the subway. Like, congratulations bro, you weaponized the “wyd” text at 11:11 p.m. and now I’m over here analyzing punctuation.
Wait… Am I Actually Being Breadcrumbed or Just Delusional?
Short answer: both, probably. Here’s how it went down for me last winter. Dude would vanish for nine days, then slide in with “you up?” followed by three heart-eyes emojis and a voice note that made my stomach flip. Then radio silence again. I’d refresh my phone like a lab rat hitting the cocaine lever. My friends were like “he’s not that into you” and I was like “no no he’s just really busy with… his personality.”
The Most Obvious Signs You’re Being Breadcrumbed (That I Ignored)
- He only texts after 10 p.m. or when his ex posts a thirst trap
- Plans are always “yeah let’s hang soon” but never actually happen (spoiler: “soon” means never)
- You’re getting paragraphs of flirty energy followed by one-word replies for two weeks
- His Instagram stories are popping but your messages stay on delivered for 72 hours straight
- He calls you “gorgeous” but can’t remember if you’re allergic to shellfish (I am, thanks for asking)
Why Being Breadcrumbed Feels So Addictive (Science or Whatever)
It’s literally intermittent reinforcement, the same thing casinos use to keep you pulling the slot machine. One tiny crumb of attention and suddenly I’m writing mental fanfiction about our future dog. My brain is dumb. Your brain is probably dumb too. We’re in this together.
I once drove 40 minutes in an Uber Pool to meet this man at a bar, and he showed up 85 minutes late eating cold fries out of his pocket. Pocket fries. And I still went home with him. That’s the power of being breadcrumbed, people.
How I Finally Stopped Eating the Crumbs (Mostly
- I started replying with the same energy (took me three days to answer “wyd” and he LOST IT)
- Blocked him on everything after he sent “happy turkey day beautiful” on Thanksgiving while I was literally crying into mashed potatoes alone
- Therapy. Lots of therapy.
- Deleted Hinge for the 47th time (currently on attempt #48, pray for me)
Look, I’m still a mess. Yesterday I almost texted him “new phone who dis” just to see if he’d panic. Being breadcrumbed rewires your brain into thinking scraps are a full meal, and unlearning that sucks.
But if you’re sitting there refreshing your messages right now… close the app. Go eat real food. Call your mom. Touch grass. You deserve someone who brings the whole damn loaf, not these stale-ass crumbs.
Anyway, tell me in the comments if you’ve ever been breadcrumbed so I don’t feel like the only clown in this circus. Misery loves company and all that.
