You know that thing where your brain decides at 2 a.m. to remind you that your boyfriend took three minutes longer than usual to text back, and you’re like, “Cool, he’s obviously found a new girlfriend, probably in Spain”? Yeah. Relationship anxiety in women is… kinda its own sport. And I’m not saying that like I’m proud of it. I’m saying it like: my brain should’ve retired from overthinking years ago, but here we are.
Back in 8th grade, I once wore two different sneakers to school. Not on purpose. It was a Monday. My best friend laughed so hard she cried, but I spent the whole day convinced everyone thought I was a clown. Spoiler: nobody cared. But that same buzzing, itchy little self-consciousness? That’s basically the cousin of relationship anxiety.
What even is relationship anxiety?
Okay, don’t roll your eyes at me—because yes, technically, it’s the thing where you overanalyze every text, every tone of voice, every emoji (why the thumbs up?? are you mad??). But it’s also the quiet panic you feel when you finally like someone and your chest goes, “Cool, let’s sabotage this.”
I think for women, it’s tied up in like… 400 different expectations. Be chill but not too chill. Be affectionate but not clingy. Be independent but also make him feel needed. It’s like trying to follow IKEA instructions written in invisible ink.
A totally real conversation I’ve had with myself
Me: “He hasn’t texted in six hours.”
Also me: “He’s probably at work.”
Me again: “Or he’s dead. Or worse—he’s ghosting.”
Also me: “Stop. You’re spiraling.”
Me, ignoring myself: googles ‘signs he’s losing interest’
That, my friends, is a Tuesday.
Queens, coffee, and crying in bodegas
Living in Queens doesn’t help, honestly. I’ll be in line at my corner bodega, ordering a bacon-egg-and-cheese, and suddenly I’ll overhear two guys debating Yankees stats. And I’ll spiral. Not because of the Yankees (although that’s another source of stress), but because one of them casually says, “Yeah, my girl gets crazy when I don’t text back fast enough.”
Like—oh. Cool. So I’m “that girl.” Except here’s the thing: it’s not about being crazy. It’s about wanting reassurance in a world that makes you feel like you have to earn it.
Why women especially get hit hard
I’ll say it: we’ve been trained for this. Since forever, women are told relationships are their ultimate goal—but also that if you “try too hard,” you’ll scare him away. So you end up second-guessing every move.
And social media? Forget it. You see him like some random girl’s bikini pic and suddenly you’re comparing yourself to a stranger with an infinity pool. It’s exhausting.
The Symptoms Nobody Talks About
Let’s make a messy list, shall we?
- Text panic: rereading his “ok” three times like it’s Shakespeare.
- Future spirals: planning your wedding one day, convincing yourself he’ll dump you by Friday.
- Comparison Olympics: she’s prettier, funnier, smarter, has better eyeliner—basically the whole Instagram feed.
- Physical stuff: stomach knots, sweaty palms, heart racing. Like, your body really thinks this is a war.
- Pretend-chill syndrome: you act like you don’t care, but inside you’re writing breakup speeches in Notes app.
A story (because stories make it real)
So, a couple years ago, I was dating this guy—let’s call him Danny (because his real name was, unfortunately, also Danny, and honestly he deserves the call-out).
We went to a Mets game. He bought me a hot dog. Normal, chill, fun date. Except halfway through, he checked his phone and smirked at a text. I asked, “Who’s that?” in what I thought was a breezy tone. Spoiler: not breezy.
He said, “Oh, just a friend,” and went back to watching the game. Meanwhile, my brain built a whole three-season Netflix series about Danny’s secret double life. By the seventh inning stretch, I was half-convinced I’d been cast in You Season 4 as the girl who gets dumped on the Jumbotron.
Turns out it was literally his cousin texting about fantasy football.
I wish I could say I learned my lesson right there, but nah—I just learned Danny’s cousin has terrible timing.
So… what do you do with this anxiety?
Alright, I’m no therapist (though maybe I should’ve been one because all my friends treat me like Dr. Phil in hoop earrings), but here’s what helps:
- Say the quiet part out loud. Tell your partner, “Hey, sometimes I get anxious if you don’t respond.” If they care, they’ll adjust.
- Catch the spiral. If you hear yourself writing mental fanfiction about his secret mistress, pause. Ask: “Do I have evidence, or am I just running reruns in my brain?”
- Reality checks. Friends help. Mine will literally text back, “Girl, he’s at Costco.” And they’re usually right.
- Self-worth work. Ugh, I know, I sound like an Instagram guru. But seriously—remind yourself you’re not auditioning for love. You’re already enough.
- Therapy, duh. If it’s eating your life, talk to a pro. Zero shame.
Why I kinda love that I have it
Okay, don’t come for me, but hear me out: relationship anxiety also means I care. I’ve been in situations where I didn’t feel anything—and trust me, that’s worse. At least with the anxiety, it’s proof I’m invested.
The trick is learning to separate “I care” from “I catastrophize.” Easier said than done, but worth trying.
Final messy thought about relationship anxiety in women
If you’re reading this and nodding because you’ve drafted six breakup speeches in your Notes app too—hey, you’re not alone. Relationship anxiety in women is messy, loud, sometimes embarrassing, but also… deeply human.
And if some dude ever tries to shame you for it? Tell him to take it up with Danny’s cousin and his dumb fantasy football league.
Suggested Outbound Links
- Funny/relatable: Texts From Your Ex
- Insightful take: Psychology Today on Relationship Anxiety
