This Week's Letter

Dear Brewtiful — Advice Column

I don't even know why I'm writing this. It's embarrassing, honestly. Twenty years ago, there was someone. We never put a label on it, but it was something. And then Mercury retrograde hit — don't judge me — and I reached out. I don't even know what I was expecting. She wrote back warmly, we caught up, it was nice. And then somewhere in the conversation she mentioned the girlfriend. A Muslim woman. Sweet, apparently. And I'm sitting there like — of course. Of course she does. This girl has never not been with someone. Her whole life, always someone. And yet somehow I forgot that detail when I decided to open that message thread at midnight.

Here's the thing. I'm asexual. I've been celibate for over six years. I made peace with all of that. I genuinely did. So I don't understand why I'm annoyed. I'm not even jealous, exactly. I'm just — stinging. And I hate that I'm stinging. Why does this still have teeth?

— Stirred, Not Shaken

Mercury retrograde didn't make you do it. You did it. And that's actually the more interesting problem.

Let's start with the elephant in the room, or rather, the planet in retrograde: Mercury was a convenient excuse and you know it. Mercury retrograde gets blamed for a lot of things — missed flights, broken chargers, ex-related midnight decisions — but the truth is you reached out because some part of you wanted to. You don't have to admit that out loud. But you do have to stop pretending a planet made you do it, because that framing is actively preventing you from asking the more useful question, which is: what were you actually hoping for?

Not in a dramatic, secret-feelings way. Just honestly. Were you hoping to feel something? To confirm you'd moved on? To see if they'd remember you the way you remembered them? Because here's the thing about reaching out to an ex after twenty years — you never fully know what you're fishing for until you feel the line go taut. And it went taut. They were warm. And then came the girlfriend.

The sting isn't that they have someone. The sting is that they were warm with you first — and then the door closed anyway.

That warmth is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. If they'd been cold or distant, you'd have gotten your closure and moved on. But they weren't. They responded like someone who remembered you fondly, caught up like it mattered, and then mentioned the girlfriend — not as a warning, just as a fact of their life. And now you're left holding this little flicker of something with nowhere to put it. That's not weakness. That's just the specific cruelty of a conversation that opened a door and closed it in the same breath.

And yes — this person has never not been with someone. You know this. Their whole life, always someone. You reached out anyway, in the middle of the night, during a retrograde, and somehow expected to find them sitting alone in the dark thinking about twenty years ago. They weren't. They never are. That's on you, and it's okay, but it is on you.

Being asexual doesn't mean you deleted your history. It means you changed your relationship to desire — not to memory.

Because here's the part I really want you to sit with: you are not broken for feeling this. Six years of celibacy, an asexual identity you've built and claimed and lived in — none of that is threatened by a sting. You are not backsliding. You are not secretly longing for something you've moved past. You are a whole, complex person who once had something unfinished with someone, reached out, got warmth, got a closed door, and felt it. That's not your identity failing you. That's your humanity doing exactly what it's supposed to do.

The annoyance at yourself — that's the real thing to examine. You're not angry that they have a girlfriend. You're angry that you felt something when you're not supposed to anymore. You've built a very intentional life, and then one warm reply at midnight cracked a window you thought was sealed. Of course that's annoying. But feelings are not a referendum on your identity. They're just weather. You don't have to rebuild your whole house every time it rains.

Here's the actual advice: let it sting for a day or two. Don't reach back out. Don't dissect the conversation for hidden meaning. Don't do the thing where you reread the messages looking for a door that isn't there. Just sit with the version of yourself who sent that message — the one who, retrograde or not, wanted to reconnect with something from a long time ago — and be kind to them. They weren't wrong for trying. They just caught a feeling they weren't prepared for. It happens.

Then come back to the life you've built. The one with six years of intention in it. The one where you know who you are. The sting will pass. It always does.

And maybe next retrograde — just, you know. Put the phone down.

— Dear Brewtiful  ·  BrewtifulLiving.com

Re: One Last Note from Joe

Dear Brewtiful,

I made the mistake of assuming elasticity.

We were discussing religion. Casually. As one does between coffee refills and mild existentialism. I said something radical, like history has context. I might as well have flipped a table.

She said, “You’re wrong.”

Not I disagree.
Not That’s not how I see it.

Just: “You’re wrong.”

It is remarkable how confident some people are about centuries they did not attend.

I sat there staring at my phone thinking, what a luxury. To be this certain. To look at 570 A.D. and declare, definitively, incorrect. As if she personally audited the desert.

Then my inbox refreshed.

Re: One Last Note on Islam from Joe…

From Joe.

And this is where I almost admired the choreography.

Because nothing communicates calm discussion quite like introducing your emotionally unstable boyfriend as a theological consultant.

Joe.

Who cannot regulate a Tuesday.

Joe.

Now moderating scripture.

At this point, I was not angry. I was impressed by the commitment to escalation.

We went from:

Let’s talk about context

to:

Summon the man.

I pictured him cracking his knuckles, Googling surah meaning, preparing to explain ancient Arabic through the lens of vibes.

I was not defending a prophet. I was not drafting a fatwa. I was saying civilizations are complicated and propaganda exists.

But sure.

Let’s assemble a panel.

So I said something annoyingly calm.

That the religion being labeled violent is the same one that instructs me to speak respectfully and honor her scripture.

Which is factually inconvenient.

And then I left.

No seventeen-part rebuttal.
No scripture duel.
No “Actually, Joe…”

Just silence.

Here is the funny part.

I did not leave because she disagreed.

I left because she declared.

There is something deeply unserious about turning nuance into a verdict and then reinforcing it with a cameo.

It was no longer a conversation. It was an audition.

And I do not audition for committees chaired by men who fight about tone.

Sincerely,
Someone Who Accidentally Triggered a Panel Discussion

Dear Someone,

First of all, congratulations.

You have just discovered the difference between disagreement and insecurity.

“You’re wrong” is not curiosity. It is a shield.

And when shields feel thin, they call backup.

Joe was not summoned because you were irrational.

Joe was summoned because you destabilized certainty.

That carries weight, whether anyone admits it or not.

You did not spiral.
You did not attack.
You did not screenshot.
You did not weaponize scripture.

You stated something structurally true and exited.

Meanwhile, a man who cannot manage his own emotional climate attempted to manage seventh-century Arabia.

If that is not dark comedy, nothing is.

Let them keep their panel.

You kept your dignity.

Warmly,
Dear Brewtiful

My Ex Came Back and I Wanted to Puke

Dear Brewtiful,
My ex came back. I wanted to puke. Not metaphorically. Not poetically. I mean it in the literal, stomach-churning, gut-recognizing-a-threat-it’s-seen-before kind of way. She sent an email. It was polite. Polished. Emotionally articulate in the way only someone who used to cause damage can sound after years of reading bell hooks and misapplying it. I wrote back. I sent what I believed was the most mature, clear, final response a person could give. It was kind without being soft, honest without being cruel, and designed like a scalpel: clean and with precision. And then she responded. Again. My question is simple. Why do they come back once you’ve moved on, and more importantly, what am I supposed to do now?

—Digestively Unwell and Spiritually Done

Dear Spiritually Done,

You are not alone. This is the signature move of the evolved-but-still-toxic ex: they return not when you’re broken, not when you’re still sorting through the rubble, but when you’ve rebuilt your house from scratch, repainted the walls, replaced the locks, and stopped leaving the light on. They return when your skin is glowing, your inbox is organized, and your cats are thriving. That’s when they get curious. That’s when they decide to show up like a ghost at brunch.

Let’s be very clear. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right. You didn’t spiral. You didn’t indulge the narrative. You didn’t try to resurrect something that died for a reason. You wrote back once, not to restart the cycle, but to close the loop. You wrote with calmness, certainty, and clarity. You wrote like a person who is no longer searching for approval, but simply responding out of self-possession. And yet she replied. Again. This is not a miscommunication. This is not a misunderstanding. This is exactly what happens when someone who once defined the script of your emotions loses access to the edit.

The nausea you felt when she returned was not random. It was not irrational. It was your body recognizing a pattern before your mind could intellectualize it. That reaction wasn’t petty. It was primal. It was the physiological equivalent of an air raid siren going off in your nervous system. And it makes perfect sense, because people like her often confuse withholding with depth, detachment with intelligence, and passive aggression with boundaries. They are allergic to accountability but fluent in therapeutic jargon. They apologize like lawyers. They use words like “healing” and “processing” to pad around the fact that they once treated you like an unpaid emotional intern.

Her email was not an apology. It was not an olive branch. It was an image-repair exercise dressed up in lowercase humility. She did not write to you. She wrote at you. She wrote to insert herself back into the narrative without asking who the narrator was now. The moment someone says “sorry for any hurt I may have caused,” you can be certain they’re not interested in owning anything. That is not an apology. That is a vague HR statement. That is a pre-written line designed to avoid specifics, to dodge detail, to let her name remain clean in the index of her own story.

And your response? It was surgical. You acknowledged the past without glamorizing it. You referenced the memories without softening the damage. You were clear. You were complete. You said it wasn’t good, and that you were not interested in unpacking something you had already removed from your emotional house. You gave her the emotional maturity she never gave you. You gifted her peace, not out of obligation, but because it’s what emotionally evolved people do when they no longer need to win. And what did she do in return? She replied. Again. Because for people like this, clarity reads like bait. Closure is a threat. And someone else having the final word is intolerable.

You are not being dramatic. You are not being cold. You are not being cruel. You are being free. And your freedom makes her uncomfortable. Because when someone has spent years controlling the pace of the emotional dance, they don’t know how to behave when you leave the ballroom entirely. She’s not replying because she’s confused. She’s replying because she knows exactly what you said, and she’s hoping to erode your boundary with enough lowercase letters, wellness phrases, and “hope you’re doing well” openers to make you forget how hard you had to fight to stop needing her explanation in the first place.

So what should you do now? You do nothing. You archive. You block if you feel like it. You let the message rot unread. You forward it to your therapist, your group chat, or your trash folder. Because this is not about politeness. This is not about closure. This is about power. And your silence is not an absence. It is the loudest boundary you can set. You do not need to re-engage. You do not need to offer more context. You do not need to watch her try to convert guilt into poetry. You do not owe her audience just because she finally decided to speak like a human.

Some people show up late to their healing and want you to wait in the lobby until they’re ready to debrief. But you’re not there anymore. You’ve moved. You’ve deleted the floor plan. You’ve burned the blueprints and built something better, not in spite of her but because you had to. Her new self is not your responsibility. Her growth is not your reward. She is not the author of your recovery, and she does not get to footnote herself into your story now that you’re interesting again.

The reason she’s still writing is simple. She no longer recognizes her reflection in your silence, and she’s hoping to provoke you back into the shape she remembers. Do not give her that satisfaction. Do not narrate for her. Do not let her into a space she forfeited. Your life is no longer a loop. It’s a line. And she missed the turn.

Disclaimer: Ask Brewtiful is not a licensed therapist, but a professional witness to emotionally manipulative email trends, lowercase apologies, and the reappearance of rebranded exes after you’ve gone full spiritual renovation. Take what resonates, and leave the rest unread.

About the Author

Sara from Brewtiful Living is a writer, recovering people-pleaser, and unsolicited emotional support unit turned boundary-setting savage. Her cats are happy. Her inbox is clean. Her exes are not welcome. She no longer entertains apologies wrapped in mindfulness quotes, and she is never impressed by anyone who signs off with “💙.”

Why Do I Get So Angry When Someone Likes Me Romantically?

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Dear Brewtiful,

Whenever someone—man or woman—shows romantic interest in me and I’m not interested, I feel an overwhelming surge of anger, disgust, and annoyance. Instead of simply letting them down gently, I find myself seething. Why does their interest make me so furious, and how can I understand what’s happening inside me?

Sincerely,
Puzzled and Peeved

Dear Puzzled and Peeved,

Oh, I feel this one. The unsolicited crush. The flirty DM. The uninvited “Hey, can I take you out sometime?” And suddenly—rage. Not a gentle “Oh no thank you,” but a full-body get away from me before I burn this interaction to the ground vibe.

Let’s get one thing out of the way: you’re not cold. You’re not broken. You’re not mean. But something in you is hitting a panic button disguised as anger. And that deserves to be unpacked—not just managed.

1. The Intrusion Factor: It Wasn’t a Conversation, It Was a Collision

Romantic interest, when unreciprocated, can feel like emotional trespassing. Especially if you didn’t initiate the vibe, flirt back, or give any kind of signal. Suddenly you’re in the spotlight, forced into the role of “polite rejector,” as if that’s your job.
Spoiler: it’s not.
Your anger may not be at the person—it may be at the entitlement baked into the moment.

2. Control, Interrupted

When someone comes at you romantically, especially without emotional context, it flips the script. You were fine. You were being. Now you're responding. And often to expectations you didn’t agree to. That feeling? That hot, primal flash of “Get out of my space”? That’s your body defending your autonomy. It's not an overreaction—it’s a boundary screaming to be respected.

3. The Echo of Past Violations

Here’s the harder truth: if you’ve ever had your space, safety, or trust violated—physically or emotionally—your body remembers. Even if you’ve moved on, your nervous system hasn’t.
So when someone shows interest you didn’t ask for, your body might register it as threat, not compliment. And your anger is a way of preemptively reclaiming control before anything can go wrong. It’s protective. It’s primal. And it’s a response, not a flaw.

4. The Performance Tax

Let’s not pretend the world doesn’t expect you to reject people nicely. To be flattered. To smile while backing away slowly. But being polite when someone crosses your emotional line is its own kind of performance—and performing when you’re uncomfortable is exhausting.
That’s where the frustration comes in. It’s not just about saying no—it’s about having to say it in a way that protects their feelings over yours.

What Now?

You don’t need to “fix” your anger. You need to listen to it. Anger is information. It’s not always pretty, but it’s powerful—and underneath it, there’s likely something soft and vulnerable trying to protect you.

Here’s what I’d suggest:

• Journal after it happens. Ask: What made me so angry? Was it the person? The context? The pressure?

• Practice neutral responses that don’t require emotional labor. A simple “I’m not interested” is a full sentence. It doesn’t need to be cute or softened.

• Explore the root. Therapy isn’t always about deep childhood trauma—it can be about understanding why something seemingly small feels like a full-body revolt. That’s worth exploring.

• Remind yourself: your discomfort matters more than their disappointment. Always.

Final Sip?

You’re not overreacting. You’re just finally listening to a part of you that’s tired of shrinking to keep other people comfortable. That rage? It’s clarity, disguised.

And now that you’ve noticed it—you get to choose what to do with it. With honesty. With kindness. But most of all—with you in mind.

With power, protection, and zero apologies,
Brewtiful

The Subtle Signs You Should’ve Run

Dear Brewtiful,

I recently started dating someone new, and while things seem great, there are some subtle behaviors that have me feeling a bit uneasy. I've heard a lot about narcissists, but I'm wondering if there are early signs that people often overlook. Can you shed some light on lesser-known things that might indicate I'm dating a narcissist?

Sincerely,
Cautiously Curious

Dear Cautiously Curious,

Ah yes, the honeymoon haze: where the lighting is flattering, the compliments come hard and fast, and your gut quietly clears its throat in the corner.

You’re wise to pause. Because if something feels off, it usually is—and narcissists rarely enter the picture waving obvious red flags. They slip in with charm, vulnerability, and compliments that feel like confetti until you realize they’re actually camouflage.

Let’s pull back the curtain. Here are some lesser-known signs you might be dating a narcissist—from someone who’s walked through the wreckage and lived to alphabetize the trauma:

1. Compliments That Don’t Land Right

It sounds backwards, I know. But love-bombing isn’t about love—it’s about disarming you before you can form a full opinion. If their compliments feel scripted or oddly intense (“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met” on date two), clock it. The point isn’t to see you—it’s to hook you.

2. They Rush the Timeline—Emotionally or Logistically

“Let’s go away together.”
“I’ve never felt this way before.”
“I deleted my apps because of you.”
This isn’t romance. It’s a speed-run toward control. If you feel like the relationship is moving faster than your emotional capacity can keep up with, that’s not passion—it’s pressure disguised as chemistry.

3. They Subtly Test Boundaries, Then Act Confused When You Say No

They show up at your place uninvited but “just wanted to surprise you.”
They pout when you don’t text back quickly but claim they’re “just really into you.”
This isn’t miscommunication. It’s data collection—they’re learning how much they can push before you flinch.

4. They Weaponize Vulnerability Early On

Oversharing trauma on date one? Telling you deep secrets “they’ve never told anyone” before the entrée arrives? That’s not openness—it’s trauma bait. Narcissists fast-track emotional intimacy not because they want connection, but because they want access.

5. Ex Talk with a Plot Twist

If they paint every ex as “crazy,” “manipulative,” or “toxic,” pay attention. That script is auditioning you for the role of Rescuer. And spoiler: you’ll eventually be recast as the Villain. On the flip side, if they idealize an ex? It’s not innocent nostalgia—it’s bait to make you compete.

6. You Feel a Little Dizzy After Seeing Them

Not in the rom-com kind of way. In the “I can’t tell if I’m glowing or spiraling” kind of way. That’s your nervous system, not your heart. Narcissists create confusion and call it chemistry. If your body’s not relaxing around them, believe it.

Final Sip: If It Feels Off, It Probably Is

Early narcissists are like emotional con artists: charming, attentive, addictive—and subtly soul-siphoning. They don’t show their true face until you’re invested. So if your gut is speaking up, listen harder than their compliments.

Protect your peace. Guard your energy. Ask better questions.
And if you’re already Googling “signs he might be a narcissist,” you probably already have your answer.

You’re not paranoid.
You’re paying attention.

With love and emotional armor,
Brewtiful

He's Coming on Too Strong—What Should I Do?

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Dear Brewtiful,

I met a guy on a Sunday, and things seemed promising at first. But since then, he's been coming on way too strong. He wanted to see me every single day of the week—Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and he even wanted to see me again on Saturday and Sunday! It's becoming overwhelming, and I'm starting to feel like he's desperate. How should I handle this situation?

— Overwhelmed

Dear Overwhelmed,

It's always exciting to meet someone new, but when the pace of a budding relationship feels more like a sprint than a leisurely walk, it's easy to become overwhelmed. It sounds like this guy's enthusiasm is turning into intensity, and it's important to address it before it escalates further.

1. Set Boundaries Early On

The first step is to set clear and firm boundaries. Let him know that while you appreciate his interest, you need time to yourself and space to breathe. Explain that seeing each other every day is too much for you and that you prefer a more balanced approach.

2. Communicate Your Feelings

Have an honest conversation about how his behavior is making you feel. Use "I" statements to express your concerns without sounding accusatory. For example, "I feel overwhelmed when we see each other every day and need some time for myself."

3. Gauge His Reaction

Pay attention to how he reacts to your boundaries and communication. If he respects your wishes and adjusts his behavior, that's a positive sign. However, if he continues to push for constant contact, it might be a red flag that he's not respecting your needs.

4. Take It Slow

Relationships should develop at a pace that feels comfortable for both parties. If he's genuinely interested in building a meaningful connection, he will understand and respect your need to take things slow. Suggest seeing each other a couple of times a week and see how things progress from there.

5. Trust Your Gut

If you continue to feel uneasy despite setting boundaries and communicating your needs, trust your instincts. It's crucial to feel comfortable and safe in any relationship. If his behavior doesn't change, it might be best to reconsider whether this relationship is right for you.

Remember, you deserve to feel respected and valued in any relationship. Taking control of the pace and ensuring your comfort is key to building a healthy and lasting connection.

Best of luck!

— Brewtiful

Pressured to Find a Man

Dear Brewtiful,

I'm turning 36 soon, and my mom is constantly pressuring me to find a man and settle down. She keeps telling me that I'm running out of time. However, I've never felt more at peace than when I'm single. I enjoy my independence and have a fulfilling life. How can I make her understand that I am happy the way I am?

Sincerely, Content and Single

Dear Content and Single,

Thank you for sharing your situation. It's not uncommon for parents to have certain expectations for their children, especially when it comes to relationships and marriage. However, it's important to remember that your happiness and peace of mind are what truly matter.

Here are a few steps you can take to communicate your feelings to your mom:

1. Honest Conversation: Sit down with your mom and have an open and honest conversation. Explain how much peace and contentment you feel being single and how your current lifestyle fulfills you.

2. Set Boundaries: Politely but firmly set boundaries regarding this topic. Let her know that while you appreciate her concern, you would prefer not to discuss your relationship status unless you bring it up.

3. Share Your Joy: Show her the positive aspects of your life. Share your achievements, hobbies, and the things that make you happy. This can help her see that you are thriving and content.

4. Seek Understanding: Ask your mom why she feels so strongly about this. Sometimes understanding the root of her concerns can help you address them more effectively.

5. Support Network: Surround yourself with friends and family who support your choices. Having a strong support network can reinforce your confidence in your decisions.

6. Reassure Her: Let her know that finding a partner, if it happens, will be on your terms and when you feel it's right. Reassure her that your happiness is not dependent on a relationship status.

Ultimately, your life is yours to live, and it's crucial to prioritize your well-being. It might take some time for your mom to fully understand and accept your perspective, but with patience and clear communication, you can help her see that your happiness is what truly matters.

Stay true to yourself, and continue enjoying the peace and fulfillment you've found.

With Brewtiful Love,

Why Am I Always the One Reaching Out?

Dear Brewtiful,

Lately, I’ve noticed that I’m always the one initiating contact with my friends. Whether it’s planning a get-together, checking in, or just saying hello, it feels like the ball is always in my court. It’s starting to get exhausting and, honestly, a bit disheartening. Why am I always the one reaching out, and what can I do about it?

Signed,

Tired of Being the Initiator

Dear Tired of Being the Initiator,

First of all, kudos to you for being such a proactive and caring friend! It takes effort to maintain relationships, and your friends are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. However, I understand how frustrating and exhausting it can feel when the effort doesn’t seem reciprocated. Here are a few things to consider and some tips to help you navigate this situation.

1. Understand Different Communication Styles

People have different communication styles and preferences. Some might be more reserved or feel anxious about reaching out first. It doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t care; they might just show their care in different ways. Try to observe if they express their friendship in other ways, such as through their actions when you do meet up or their responses when you initiate contact.

2. Open Up the Conversation

Communication is key in any relationship. Have an open and honest conversation with your friends about how you’re feeling. You can say something like, “I’ve noticed that I’m usually the one reaching out, and I’d love it if you could initiate sometimes too. It would mean a lot to me.” This way, you’re expressing your feelings without sounding accusatory.

3. Set Boundaries and Prioritize Your Well-being

It’s important to take care of yourself and not overextend your emotional energy. If you’re feeling drained, it’s okay to take a step back and see how your friends respond. Sometimes, giving a bit of space can encourage others to reach out more.

4. Evaluate the Friendship

Reflect on the dynamics of your friendships. Are they balanced, or do you feel like you’re always giving more than you’re receiving? Healthy relationships should feel mutual and supportive. If you find that certain friendships consistently leave you feeling undervalued, it might be worth reconsidering how much energy you invest in them.

5. Encourage Group Activities

Sometimes, people feel more comfortable reaching out in group settings rather than one-on-one. Suggest group activities or gatherings where the responsibility of initiating contact can be shared among everyone. This can take some of the pressure off you and foster a more collective effort.

6. Diversify Your Social Circle

Expand your social circle to include people who share similar values and communication styles. Building new friendships can bring fresh energy and perspectives into your life, and you might find more balanced interactions with others.

Remember, friendships are a two-way street, and it’s perfectly okay to seek balance and reciprocity in your relationships. Keep being your wonderful, proactive self, but don’t forget to take care of your own needs and well-being too.

Wishing you all the brewtiful connections,

Brewtiful Living