Why Do Men Lose Romantic Interest So Quickly

 Now onto Swift’s directorial debut: The short stars Sadie Sink, 19, as “her” and Dylan O’Brien, 30, as “him.” (Did you notice a pattern in their ages? Swift’s fans sure did.) After lingering on a quote from Pablo Neruda, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long,” we open on a beautiful autumnal road. Sink and O’Brien at the beginning of their relationship, walking into a cottage in the forest where Sink hangs up a red scarf. They montage through happy-couple activities: playing a card game, kissing in the forest, spontaneous piggy-backing. Then, part 2, titled “The First Break in the Glass.” O’Brien is hosting a dinner party where Sink is clearly uncomfortable. He drops her hand at dinner in front of his sophisticated, artsy friends. A fight ensues. Later, they break up. The film ends with a flash-forward to 13 years in the future. Sink is now Swift, reading an excerpt of her first novel All Too Well to a crowd of crying women. The camera goes outside, and we see O’Brien, wearing the red scarf Sink left at their cabin upstate. Fin.

 

The first thing I remember really liking about him was how cute he was when he was trying to be serious. The way he said “sound” when I mentioned a gay friend during the date even though I wasn’t checking for approval—just beginning a story—or when he asked me if I’d ever had a Padron pepper before. Conversation came easily between us. I made fun of him because he was really upset about a microscopic scuff on his sneakers; he made fun of me because I kept adding irrelevant details to my stories like, “So, he was in this red jumper, right?” He turned his ring in his hands, ran his tongue over his teeth, said thanks, cheers, thanks, thanks, thanks, when ordering a pint at the bar. He put his hand around my hips and pulled me closer to him, earlier than was appropriate, later than I would have wanted. Then he told me: “I haven’t connected with someone like this in a long time... Do you feel like we’re getting on? Is that too intense?” and when I nodded, said, “Shall we go and see Dune together at the weekend? I reckon sitting next to you would make the three hours go a lot quicker.”

 

But there was no Dune, just a couple more days of texting, a “Whoa, so sorry I went off the grid over the weekend,” followed by another couple of days of texting, then nothing but me habitually scrolling to see if he’d watched my Instagram Stories. I might not have been so bothered if this were an isolated incident. But the same thing happened a couple of weeks ago with a work colleague. And before him the teacher guy, the hippie guy, the guy who I already sort of knew because we met at the pub with mutual friends, but then also matched on Hinge... basically, lots of guys.In previous columns, I put this behavior down to the way men tend to gamify sex. Like once they know you would have it with them, their interest wanes because it’s like they’ve “won” the game, so what’s the point in completing it? But I’m starting to think it’s more than this. That their tendency to lose interest swells up and encompasses more of their being than I thought.In previous columns, I put this behavior down to the way men tend to gamify sex. Like once they know you would have it with them, their interest wanes because it’s like they’ve “won” the game, so what’s the point in completing it? But I’m starting to think it’s more than this. That their tendency to lose interest swells up and encompasses more of their being than I thought.