

I was 14 when I told my first boyfriend I loved him. It was moments after losing my virginity and he was already getting pretty bored of me. I wasn't exciting, I wasn't confrontational, nor was I glamourous. I was a quiet bookworm afraid of my own shadow. I had been abused as a kid, and taught that codependent behaviors were normal.
I didn't realize that codependency wasn't a problem or a real thing up until I was 29.
I went to therapy, I journaled, I read books. I even joined a support group to which I quit a month later because I didn't believe codependency was a disease, just a shitty learned behavior. And even though most of my codependent behaviors I have unlearned, there is one I hadn't wanted to reveal to my therapist because it felt too embarrassing.
I told guys I loved them when I didn't. Growing up in an abusive household, I gravitated towards boys and men who mistreated me. I did it without giving it a second thought. I would bend over backwards, smile when I wanted to cry, laughed when they would put me down, and stayed in those relationships far longer than I should have because I felt fortunate to be seen even if it wasn't in a healthy way. I'd tell these guys I loved them because I had never gotten any love from home and I wanted to make my own family. I told them this because I thought if I did so, they would want to stay with me forever.
I take responsibility for my own pain. I take responsibility for the fact that in the back of my mind, I knew I did not love them. And I take responsibility for the can of worms I had opened once I told them this and the abuse I allowed to happen because those three words meant I was malleable.
They'd get money, clothes, food, a babysitter, and, one time, an unpaid personal care assistant for their elderly mother. "You said you loved me, right?" I heard that question all too often when I would reluctantly agree to do something for them that often came to my detriment.
It has been 18 years of me doing this.
A pattern that was just made clear after scratching my head from my pursuit of the latest jerk. "Why did he not answer my phone calls, texts, and emails?" "Why would he tell me he was interested in me and act the opposite of it?"
I realized then that I dated the same type of men; got hurt nearly the same way; and even though I felt myself be more confident than I have ever been and more self-aware due to three years of therapy, I still found myself saying "I love you" when things felt uncertain between me and whatever jerk I was with at the time. This is the familiar. Date a guy, like the guy, the guy's true awful colors show, I tell him I love him, and am with him far longer than I should be.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I knew their lines for their neglect or disinterest like the back of my hand. I knew when they moved onto someone else. I'd blame their mistreatment of me on the belief that I wasn't pretty enough and felt they were dragging the relationship on to see what else they could get out of me. Even though it has been years since a man has gotten a gift, a babysitter, a personal care assistant, whatever the hell else they wanted, know that ended with me in tears, with me feeling worthless, and me giving up on love to find myself with the same type of jerk in different men years later.
I know this now to be an unhealthy ass pattern that I feel it's time for me to unlearn.
I started thinking about what I know is familiar and what I know isn't. I never heard a man tell me they loved me and meant it. I never had a boyfriend who doted over me or gushed about me to his family and friends. I never had a man treat me as if I was a true treat to his eyes, I never had a man who encouraged me to pursue my goals for myself and not for him. I never had a man who didn't shame me for being more intelligent than him. I never had a man who didn't shame me for accomplishing more. I've never had a man who just accepted me the way that I was.
Maybe I overlooked the men who liked me in the healthy way because I was so focused on having the unhealthy. Maybe Mr. Right was there in front of me and I had missed my chance and maybe I had not.
I know that I have never felt more empty and alone than when I with these guys. I know I never cried more than I did when I was with these guys. And even though I had learned long ago that it was better to be alone than to be unhappy, I still found myself retreating to the familiar.
And now that I am aware, I am ready to embrace the unfamiliar with open arms, slight hesitation, and lots of therapy.
xoNecole is always looking for new voices and empowering stories to add to our platform. If you have an interesting story or personal essay that you'd love to share, we'd love to hear from you. Contact us at submissions@xonecole.com.
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Adrian Marcel On Purpose, Sacrifice, And The 'Signs Of Life'
In this week's episode of xoMAN, host Kiara Walker talked with R&B artist Adrian Marcel, who opened up, full of heart and authenticity, about his personal evolution. He discussed his days transitioning from a young Bay Area singer on the come-up to becoming a grounded husband and father of four.
With honesty and introspection, Marcel reflected on how life, love, and loss have shaped the man he is today.
On ‘Life’s Subtle Signals’
Much of the conversation centered around purpose, sacrifice, and listening to life’s subtle signals. “I think that you really have to pay attention to the signs of life,” Marcel said. “Because as much as we need to make money, we are not necessarily on this Earth for that sole purpose, you know what I mean?” While he acknowledged his ambitions, adding, “that is not me saying at all I’m not trying to ball out,” he emphasized that fulfillment goes deeper.
“We are here to be happy. We are here [to] fulfill a purpose that we are put on here for.”
On Passion vs. Survival
Adrian spoke candidly about the tension between passion and survival, describing how hardship can sometimes point us away from misaligned paths. “If you find it’s constantly hurting you… that’s telling you something. That’s telling you that you’re going outside of your purpose.”
Marcel’s path hasn’t been without detours. A promising athlete in his youth, he recalled, “Early on in my career, I was still doing sports… I was good… I had a scholarship.” An injury changed everything. “My femur broke. Hence why I always say, you know, I’m gonna keep you hip like a femur.” After the injury, he pivoted to explore other careers, including teaching and corporate jobs.
“It just did not get me—even with any success that happened in anything—those times, back then, I was so unhappy. And you know, to a different degree. Like not just like, ‘I really want to be a singer so that’s why I’m unhappy.’ Nah, it was like, it was not fulfilling me in any form or fashion.”
On Connection Between Pursuing Music & Fatherhood
He recalled performing old-school songs at age 12 to impress girls, then his father challenged him: “You can lie to these girls all you want, but you're really just lying to yourself. You ain't growing.” That push led him to the piano—and eventually, to his truth. “Music is my love,” Marcel affirmed. “I wouldn’t be a happy husband if I was here trying to do anything else just to appease her [his wife].”
Want more real talk from xoMAN? Catch the full audio episodes every Tuesday on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, and don’t miss the full video drops every Wednesday on YouTube. Hit follow, subscribe, and stay tapped in.
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Roscoe Dash joined xoMan host Kiara Walker to share the journey of his personal and spiritual evolution—from the party anthems that made him famous to a deeper life rooted in faith, family, and purpose. This episode offers an honest look at how the artist has grown beyond early fame, addressing fatherhood, masculinity, creativity, and healing.
Dash opened up about the internal transformation that has guided him away from chasing the spotlight and toward seeking peace. “Faith and fear can’t occupy the same space,” he said, underscoring his shift toward a more spiritually grounded life. Throughout the interview, he emphasized the importance of self-reflection:
“The most important conversations to me, honestly, outside of the ones you have with God, is the ones you have with yourself in the mirror.”
Dash is focused on the man he’s become. “I’m not the accolades I’ve achieved—I’m the person who achieved them,” he added, pointing to a broader understanding of identity and worth. A large part of that growth has come through fatherhood, especially raising daughters, which he said has deepened his understanding of love. “Love is unconditional and love loves to love no matter what,” he shared.
He also spoke candidly about the pressures of fame and its impact on creativity. “Chasing fame can kill your creativity as a musician,” he warns. Instead, his advice to other artists is simple but clear: “Keep your focus on your art form, whatever that may be, and stay passionate.”
The conversation also touches on gender dynamics and emotional safety in relationships. “Safe men make soft women. If she feels safe, she’ll melt like butter,” he said, challenging traditional notions of masculinity. Roscoe also offers wisdom on discernment and spiritual testing: “Sometimes the devil will give you what looks better than your blessing.”
Ultimately, Dash has learned to embrace peace over chaos. “All I can do is control what I can control. And that's how I respond to things and what I'm giving out,” he said. It’s a thoughtful, soulful side of Roscoe Dash that many may not expect—but one that leaves a lasting impression.
Want more real talk from xoMAN? Catch the full audio episodes every Tuesday on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, and don’t miss the full video drops every Wednesday on YouTube. Hit follow, subscribe, and stay tapped in.
Featured image by xoNecole/YouTube