Can I just say something? In the world of female singlehood, I’ve stumbled upon countless strange dating patterns — but this one might be the most crucial, confusing, and contagious of them all: the epidemic of the partially single man.
What do I mean by that, you ask? I mean the men who claim to be single, but somehow…aren’t. The ones who still have a lingering ex hovering in the background — a ghost haunting the group chat, the tagged photos, or the recesses of his “healing era.”
Raise your hand if you’ve dated one. Actually, raise both. Because every man I’ve entertained lately seems to have one foot still firmly planted in the past.
Let’s take a walk down memory lane — from my early 20s to present day — and meet a few of these partially single men.
The High School Sweetheart (A Decade of Déjà Vu)
My first boyfriend and I dated on and off from high school into my early 20s. He met a new girlfriend in college — the kind of girl willing to be everything I would never be (thank God). From there, it was like a silent game of tug-of-war of who “had” him that week. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t know the other existed. She added me on Snapchat. I knew more about her than I probably knew about him.
When things fell apart with one of us, he’d run to the other. It was exhausting.
By 24, I’d finally had enough and walked away for good. Ironically, the next time I saw him — purely by accident — was five years later…at his wedding. To someone completely new.
The Rich Kid (Broke in Every Other Way)
In my late 20s, I dated a guy I knew from college. He came from serious money — more than he knew what to do with — and had just moved out from living with his ex. I didn’t realize how fresh the breakup was until later (we’re talking weeks, not months).
Did that stop me? No. Should it have? Probably.
He wanted the benefits of a girlfriend without the responsibility. Exclusive without the label. Commitment without the clarity. And when you’re coasting on your parents’ wealth without a sense of self, you tend to get lost in the luxury.
Let’s just say…he was still finding himself. I just wasn’t interested in funding the journey — or being the rebound from his previous relationship.
The Storm (My Canon Event)
Last year I found myself in a situationship with a character who I coined The Storm — my first whirlwind romance of my 30s, a canon event that acted as the catalyst for Love Sex LA’s conception. He was older, charming, magnetic. The life of every party. He told me he was divorced. Spoiler: he wasn’t. He was getting divorced — mid-process.
With a little internet research (and a sprinkle of psycho-girl intuition), I discovered the truth.
He was one of those guys that I was not originally interested in despite his persistence, but when I finally caved all the sudden he ghosted. Suddenly, I was the one who had feelings and he was the one with the upper hand.
When he ghosted and later texted me — “Hey! FYI I got back with my wife. But I really wanna be friends…” — I knew I’d just been swept up in his emotional tornado.
We stayed “friends,” which really meant we orbited each other until his marriage officially ended…and then somehow restarted again.
It was not my highest moment of self-respect, but it did teach me a lot. Mind you, the Storm and his “wife” did complete the divorce process yet even six months of no contact didn’t stop them from getting back together. A textbook case of this epidemic of partially single men who are splitting time between an ex and the baggage of their past with singlehood.
He and his ex had an invisible tether — one that even time, distance, or divorce papers couldn’t cut. A prime example of the partially single man: half out of love, half too scared to leave the comfort of it.
The Emotionally Unavailable Millennial
Over the summer, I had a short fling with a guy who proudly identified as “emotionally unavailable.” (Because nothing screams self-awareness like leading with a red flag.)
He blamed it on his last relationship — the heartbreak, the trust issues, the inability to commit. And like the fixer I sometimes forget I am, I thought, Maybe I can help him heal.
Spoiler alert: I couldn’t. Because men aren’t home renovations — you can’t patch over damage with potential.
He swore he was over his ex, but every sign said otherwise. Of course, I ignored them, as if a stop sign were merely a suggestion. When a guy sits across from you calling his ex “crazy,” the most important takeaway isn’t the adjective — it’s the fact that he’s still talking about her.
Cut to me, two dirty martinis deep, confessing, “I’m not looking for casual anymore — at least not with you. Take it or leave it.” And obviously, every ounce of my slightly tipsy, overly hopeful self wanted him to take it.
He chose to leave it. And honestly? That rejection was the closure I needed.
Sometimes, the lesson is simple: he’s not emotionally unavailable — he’s just still emotionally invested in his ex.
The Social Media Ghost (Digitally Taken)
Most recently, I matched with a guy on an app. Months later, we reconnected on Instagram — flirted, DMed, planned a date. And, of course, I did what any reasonable woman would do: I snooped.
There she was in all her glory: his digital past plastered all over his tagged photos. Like she was a ghost of his grid that couldn’t fully be erased no matter how many photos he potentially archived. His ex (or current? unclear) was still very present. Still in his likes, still in his comments, still in the algorithm of his heart.
And it made me wonder: Is he single? On hiatus? Or is this another example of the epidemic of partially single men who can’t let go of what was in fear of loneliness, scarcity, or just too tucked into the idea of comfort. Because the discomfort of meeting someone new can be so scary. Uneasy. No matter who you are: man, woman, rich, poor, young, old. Familiarity breeds comfort — and sometimes, it wins out over misery, boredom, and even common sense.
That’s the thing about modern dating — social media has made emotional attachments harder to hide and even harder to sever. You can mute, unfollow, archive — but if you’re still scrolling their feed, are you really over them?
So the question remains:
Is anyone truly single anymore — or does everyone come with a bag they already packed?
There’s an invisible string between these men and their pasts, tied so tightly they can’t break free. They live in the comfort of nostalgia — of familiarity, ease, and predictability — afraid of the discomfort that comes with starting over.
But here’s what I’ve learned:
You deserve more than to be someone’s distraction. You deserve to be the person they never want to be distracted from. The one who commands their focus and adoration. If someone makes you feel anything less than desired or seen, that’s your cue to walk away — not to prove your worth, but to protect it. When a man is half in and half out, it’s not your job to pull him closer — because at the end of the day, you can’t build a future with a man still living in his past.