Fontana, CA — Okay, let’s have a serious, honest conversation…it might be a little funny as well.

Have you ever stopped dating someone you knew wasn’t good for you—I mean, Stevie Wonder could see it was a bad situation—yet you still find yourself thinking about them and ultimately going back to them? Not that they’ve changed, but you decide to go back anyway.

And we know how the conversation goes: “Girl—I thought you let him go. All he does is cheat on you, and you’re not his only one. He even had a baby on you! And you’ve gone back to him?”

“I know, I know—but I think he’ll come around… besides, I love him.”

Well, first, knowing someone is bad for you and being emotionally detached from them are two entirely different things. Your intellect can resign from a relationship long before your emotions turn in their two-week notice.

Attachment theory helps explain why. People with anxious attachment tendencies may experience heightened fear of rejection or abandonment and seek reassurance and closeness when a relationship feels threatened. That means the very person who creates your anxiety can also become the one you seek to relieve it. Now that is a setup, because you’re essentially saying, “You’re getting on my nerves, disturbing my peace, making me question myself, and driving me crazy…so come over.”

Make that make sense! Except psychologically, sometimes it does.

Another concept is intermittent reinforcement. When affection, attention and validation are unpredictable—wonderful today, unavailable tomorrow—the uncertainty itself can strengthen pursuit. You keep waiting for the loving version of the person to reappear. And Lord knows they always seem to reappear right when you were finally getting yourself together.

“Hey, stranger…”

And there goes six weeks of therapy.

But here’s what we sometimes misunderstand: intensity is not intimacy. The emotional high that comes when somebody returns after withdrawing can feel incredibly powerful. But relief from anxiety is not necessarily evidence of love. Sometimes what feels like chemistry is actually instability followed by relief. Then there’s the sunk-cost problem: “I’ve already given this relationship four years.” “My children know him.” “Everybody knows we’re together.” “I’ve invested too much to walk away.” But five unhealthy years don’t become a good investment because you add a sixth.

We also become attached not only to the person standing in front of us but also to their potential.

“He really is a good man.”

“She’s been through a lot.”

“He just needs to mature.”

But one of the most expensive mistakes we make in relationships is dating potential while ignoring patterns.Potential asks, Who could this person become? Maturity asks, Who has this person consistently demonstrated themselves to be?

For Black men and women, I think this conversation deserves additional nuance. Black love exists within a larger historical and socioeconomic context. Pew Research Center reports that as of 2024, 48% of Black American adults had never married, compared with 29% of non-Black adults. Only 36% of Black men and 29% of Black women were married. Those statistics do not mean healthy Black relationships are disappearing. But they can contribute to a perception that finding another desirable Black partner is extraordinarily difficult. And scarcity—real or perceived—can make us negotiate against ourselves.

“I don’t want to start over.”

“At least he has a job.”

“At least she doesn’t do that.”

“You know how hard it is out here to find a good Black man?”

“Do you know how difficult dating is for Black men?”

And suddenly we’ve moved from selecting a healthy partner to conducting an emotional clearance sale:

Well, he only cheats occasionally…

Our history also contains extraordinary examples of Black relational resilience—families and communities maintaining connection through racism, economic exclusion, migration, incarceration and countless structural pressures. Resilience is part of our story. But resilience can become dangerous when we confuse our capacity to endure something with a requirement to remain in it. You don’t get extra relationship points for suffering.

So why do you keep going back? Maybe you love them. But maybe that’s not the whole answer. Maybe you’re attached to who you hoped they’d become. Maybe you’re afraid of being alone. Maybe inconsistency has conditioned you to chase moments of affection. Maybe you’ve confused emotional intensity with compatibility. Maybe you’re trying to heal an old wound through a new person. Or perhaps leaving them means grieving not only the relationship—but also the marriage, family, and future you imagined would eventually come from it.

That’s why the better question may not be: “Why can’t I leave this person?” It may be: “What does staying connected to this person keep me from confronting within myself?”

Healthy relationships aren’t perfect. People make mistakes, disappoint one another, grow, apologize, and sometimes deserve another chance. But there is a difference between forgiving a mistake and financing a pattern. At some point, we have to stop falling for apologies and start paying attention to behavior. Because love may be a perfectly legitimate reason to care about someone.

It is not always a sufficient reason to keep dating them. Sometimes the healthiest relationship decision you’ll ever make is finally accepting: I can love you…and still not go back.