5 Mind Games Avoidants Play When They’re Secretly Obsessed With You (And How To Win By Not Playing)

Tell me something — have you ever felt like you’re dating a ghost? One moment the connection is electric: they’re messaging you, sharing laughter, looking at you in a way that makes you feel truly seen. You think you’re finally building something steady, something real. Then suddenly — nothing. Silence. A message left unread, a plan cancelled with a vague excuse. That sudden void is disorienting, and it pushes you into the same awful spiral after every interaction: What did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Was I too much… or not enough? Hear this clearly: stop blaming yourself. You didn’t mess up. This isn’t about a mistake you made; you were pulled into a complicated, draining psychological game. It’s run by someone who is, at once, strangely fixated on you and deeply afraid of closeness. In this piece we’ll reveal the five manipulations they use — and, more importantly, I’ll hand you the one key to take your power back. Stick with this because winning isn’t about outplaying them; it’s about choosing not to play at all. But how do you stop a game if you don’t even know its rules? You begin by seeing the whole board. Before naming the five tactics, we must understand the brutal single conflict they’re fighting inside themselves — a struggle they likely won’t admit, perhaps not even to their conscious mind. Within the person who confuses you there’s a constant civil war between two massive fears. On one side is the fear of engulfment: for them, deep intimacy can feel suffocating. Getting close threatens to erase their autonomy — their goals, freedom, and identity — so whenever warmth grows, their survival instinct snarls, “Back off. Create distance.” On the other side sits the fear of abandonment: the part that aches for the connection, that craves affirmation and fears being alone. It whispers, “Don’t lose them. Pull them back.” That push-and-pull is exactly what you experience day after day. Their obsession with you is real — born of fear of solitude — but their dread of being swallowed whole usually wins. It’s the panic button they hit whenever things start to feel too intimate. Every game we’ll describe is just a symptom of this inner conflict. It’s not about you; it’s them trying to manage their own chaos. Once you recognize that, everything shifts. You stop being a pawn and become an outsider watching the drama unfold. Okay — you’ve got your backstage pass. Let’s open the curtain on the first, and perhaps most shocking, ploy: the vanishing act. You know it well. A perfect date: long conversation, effortless laughter, undeniable chemistry. You leave feeling hopeful, maybe for the first time in a while. Then — silence. The warmth of the night evaporates into a cold, empty inbox. Worse, you see the little green dot on Instagram — they’re online, viewing stories, liking posts — but not replying to you. Or it’s that last-minute cancellation with no real excuse, just: “Hey, so sorry, something came up — super busy this week.” And just like that, the connection disappears. Why do they do it? From their perspective it’s survival. The closeness you enjoy triggers their fear of being engulfed, so they hit the emergency eject. They’re not always trying to hurt you; they’re scrambling for space to breathe, to reset to a distance that feels safe. But here’s the catch: whether intentional or not, their silence becomes a massive power move. It creates a vacuum — and anxious minds loathe vacuums. You start filling it with doubt and worry. You compulsively check your phone, tempted to send, “Hey, everything okay?” The moment you reach out, you begin to chase; their withdrawal has steered your behavior, putting you on the defensive, trying to win back what they’ve taken. If the vanishing act is total withdrawal, the next tactic is subtler and more pernicious: it’s the illusion of presence — the emotional mirage. Picture yourself stranded in a desert, parched by their distance. A mirage isn’t emptiness; it looks like exactly what you need most — water. That’s how this feels: when you’re near giving up, they deliver a shimmering, perfectly timed drop of what you crave. It could be a “thinking of you” text at 1 a.m., a late-night conversation where they finally open up and make you feel singularly special, or casual future talk — “You’d love my family’s cabin in the fall,” or “We should take that road trip next summer.” These moments seem real and become proof you cling to, evidence their feelings are genuine. But here’s the psychological trap: it’s intermittent reinforcement — the same mechanism that keeps people hooked to slot machines. The reward is unpredictable, and that unpredictability makes you keep playing. In this dynamic, the avoidant is the slot machine and their occasional affection is the jackpot. They dole out emotional payoffs at random, enough to keep you invested. You live on breadcrumbs, not nourishment — always kept from walking away. So we’ve seen how they control you by disappearing and by dangling emotional illusions. What about when they feel insecure and want to measure your commitment without risking vulnerability themselves? That’s Game Three: the loyalty test. This is not a direct inquiry. It’s a string of calculated provocations aimed to elicit a particular response. They’ll mention an ex in a strangely timed way, like a casual comment that stings. They’ll suddenly like a series of photos of someone attractive, knowing you’ll notice. They might talk about a flirtatious co-worker. They drop emotional landmines and then stand back to watch your reaction. Why? To gauge how invested you are without having to admit their own fear. Rather than ask, “Do you care about me?” they manufacture scenarios to make you reveal it. Your jealousy, anxiety, protective instincts — even a small show of possessiveness — become data points to them. A jealous response proves you’re hooked; it reassures their insecurity without them ever having to say, “I need you.” For you, the effect is corrosive: you live on edge, always competing for their affection against an invisible rival. It turns the relationship into a silent battleground — a contest you can never truly win because the rules keep changing. We’ve covered silence, mirages and tests, but what about a game defined by an absence of overt tension — no drama, no progression, no clarity? This is perhaps the most familiar trap in modern dating: the status quo snare — the situationship. You have the hallmarks of a real relationship — intimate conversations, inside jokes, physical closeness, maybe even introductions to friends — but none of the security. When you muster the nerve to ask, “So what are we?” you’re met with a verbal fog: “I’m just not in a place for a relationship right now,” “I don’t really believe in labels,” or the classic, “Why put a label on this? Can’t we just enjoy it?” Make no mistake: the undefined limbo is their perfect safety net. It’s the ultimate loophole that lets them enjoy all the benefits of having you — emotional support, companionship, intimacy — while avoiding commitment and accountability. They keep you close but leave the exit door wide open. No stakes exist for them because, in their mind, they never really promised anything. For you it’s draining: you’re stuck auditioning forever, thinking, “If I’m a little more supportive, patient, perfect, they’ll finally see my worth and commit.” You perform the role of partner, hoping for a title that never comes. The trap is crafted to keep you available but unclaimed. We’ve mapped their silence, their illusions, their tests, and the stagnation of ambiguity. Now it’s time to name the force that fuels them all: the chaos engine. This is the driving system behind the whole dynamic — the violent swing between hot and cold, the relentless push-and-pull. It’s the emotional roller coaster you can’t get off. For days or weeks they can be ideal: morning texts, plans, warmth. You breathe a sigh of relief, relax, and start to feel safe — and right when you let your guard down, the machine kicks in. Replies shorten, affection fades, distance returns. You feel that familiar, stomach-dropping confusion: what did I do to break it? Why this painful unpredictability? Because the cycle is control. It destabilizes you on purpose. Remember the slot machine; the chaos engine is the whole casino. The dramatic oscillation between intense affection and sharp withdrawal triggers chemical hooks in your brain. You become addicted to the cycle: the high of closeness feels so euphoric that you’ll tolerate the lows just to feel it again. They don’t need to be consistent; inconsistency is the hook that keeps you fixated, trying to decode them and never quite finding the clarity to leave. This engine feeds off your hope and anxiety. So what happens if you stop fueling it? If you withdraw your energy for weeks, months, maybe years? You’ve been the supply for that chaos engine — your hope, your worry, your overthinking, your patience. The real way to win is to stop. Take back your fuel. Don’t play harder or attempt to outsmart them — change the game entirely. Make yourself the sole player with one rule: you come first. That’s how you create an unshakeable frame. It’s not a fortress to keep them out; it’s a foundation so steady no manipulation can topple you. It rests on three pillars. Pillar one: become the observer, not the participant. Treat this as if you’re a scientist examining a strange behavior. When they go cold after a great weekend, don’t panic or chase. Breathe, step back, and observe. Say to yourself, “Interesting.” The chaos engine’s push cycle is active. When they name-drop an ex, don’t let jealousy swallow you — note it: “A loyalty test has been triggered.” Labeling the behavior robs it of its emotional sway. You’re no longer swept up; you’re the meteorologist watching the storm on a screen. That psychological distance is the first step toward freedom. Pillar two: mirror, don’t overcompensate. For too long you’ve absorbed their energy, trying to fix their cold with warmth and their distance with more closeness. Stop overgiving. Match their level of investment. If they send a low-effort, one-word text, resist responding with an earnest paragraph. Get on with your life. If they cancel a date at the last minute, don’t beg to reschedule immediately; reply calmly, “Okay, thanks for letting me know,” and use the time to do something that enriches you with people who value you. This isn’t petty or a tit-for-tat game — it’s a quiet, consistent lesson: your time and energy are valuable and offered, not begged for. Pillar three: your peace is the prize. For too long you treated the prize as them — their commitment, consistency, or love. I want you to change the race: the real prize is your inner calm. Your goal becomes waking with a clear mind, not decoding their last message. From now on judge every interaction by one question: does this add to my peace, or subtract from it? If their inconsistency steals your peace, the cost is too high. A relationship should be a safe harbor, not a perpetual storm. The observer, the mirror, and the prize — that is your unshakeable frame. From this place of strength you no longer live by their rules; you live by your own. And when you do, something remarkable happens: the games stop working. The chaos engine runs dry because you no longer feed it with hope and anxiety. When you stop reacting, chasing, and overcompensating, you force them into a long-avoided decision. Without drama to hide behind, they face two paths. One: they show up. They confront their fears, learn to communicate, and meet you consistently and genuinely. Two: they fade. Unable to control through old patterns, they retreat. And here’s the most freeing truth: either result is a win for you. You either get the healthy, loving relationship you deserve, or you gain the deep, peaceful freedom you need. There is no losing outcome for you anymore. If this message brought clarity, pass it along to someone who might need to hear it. Share in the comments which part of the unshakeable frame resonated most with you — your experience matters. And subscribe for more guidance on building steady confidence in life and relationships. Remember: your peace is the prize. Go claim it.