The Love Bombed, Maybe Series
Some relationships don’t fall apart all at once. Sometimes the cracks appear quietly, in small moments you try to ignore.
If you’re new here, I recommend reading my first blog in this series, “Love Bombed, Maybe.” Please click the link to read it and subscribe by email if you haven’t yet. In this post, I’m sharing more about my experience with love bombing and some new insights. Love bombing doesn’t always look the same. Some people go all out with gifts and compliments, but my experience was different, even though a lot of what I’ve read still applies. After the relationship ended, he still hovered on my social media stories and even replied to my last blog post on Facebook. He commented that my memories didn’t align with his. We had agreed to keep things off social media, but now that I’ve shared my story, he’s made himself known. I don’t think he liked my criticism, but I stand by what I wrote and will keep calling him LB. If he wants to comment again, that’s up to him. My thoughts come from notes I keep on my phone, and I haven’t exaggerated anything. Our relationship was still new, but I felt like the new-love feeling was fading. After he left Colombia, he became distant with delayed responses in our text chats. I’ll talk more about that later, since it connects to the patterns love bombers exhibit. For me, it was a signal to reassess the relationship. Life is too short to let anyone disturb your peace.
In my last blog, I mentioned how LB was rude during a meal at a restaurant when my son had joined us, making little effort to connect and keeping his headphones in. This was the start of his trip to visit me in Colombia. After dinner, we went home to pack for a two-day trip to Nevada del Ruiz. I love exploring new parts of Colombia, especially places known for biodiversity. The drive from my area, Valle del Cauca, is long. I was looking forward to a break from my glamping business. I decided not to dwell on the night before or LB’s behavior around my son. I was beginning to see a pattern with him, and it always occurred when others were around. I try to live by the idea that no one can take my peace unless I let them. Which includes starting drama, and my son had told me it wasn’t a big deal. I closed my place for two nights, and my son helped by checking out the current guests when we left. My best friend in Colombia, Alvaro, agreed to drive us on the five-hour trip. The drive was pleasant, with sunny weather. I had the back seat to myself, and LB chatted with Alvaro from time to time. I noticed LB seemed comfortable around him. Alvaro is a lot like me; he’s friendly with everyone. He met LB last year when he visited and drove him to different tourist spots.
When LB visited last year, he was a guest who paid to stay at my hotel and glamping place; he paid Alvaro to drive us on this vacation and cover all expenses. However, there was a huge difference this time. He was in Colombia to visit me and continue our relationship. LB wasn’t paying me to stay in my hotel. I had made the arrangements in advance for this trip after confirming that LB wanted to do it. Alvaro was super busy the week we left, but he did this as a favor to me. We made a quick stop in Buga along the way to pick up a crucifix of the Black Jesus, and then at other roadside places. It was not a hurried timeline. When it was time for lunch, we were near Salento, in the department of Quindío, where there is a shop with wonderful one-of-a-kind boots. I was there with my best friends in 2024 and bought boots. Alvaro reminded me and asked if I wanted to stop for an hour. I squealed with excitement, “Yes, I do!” We stopped, and LB said, ” Let me buy the boots for you for Christmas.” I allowed him to, but I was surprised that he came to see me without a Christmas present. His birthday was on the 16th in two days, and I had spent time ordering presents and arranging for my son to buy a birthday cake while I was on this road trip. I thought surely he had brought something else for me. I had also bought him Christmas presents. After the stop in Salento, we continued to Manizales, Colombia. We checked into the hotel and met downstairs later to go out and explore the town.
Manizales was decorated so beautifully, with colored lights and embellishments trimming every street and town square. The city glittered in the December night, and for a moment I let myself feel hopeful, as if the lights were sparkling promises just waiting to be kept. We hailed a cab to get to the trendy area where we decided to have dinner. When we were let out in this quaint neighborhood alive with people and holiday spirit, it truly felt like the magic of the season surrounded us. I felt the joy in the air and said, “Let’s go get a shot of tequila!” Alvaro, who never drinks because he is usually driving, decided to partake, too. We found a cute little bar and had a shot. There were so many different restaurants in the area, and we wandered by them until we found one we all liked. We got a table outside on a cozy little terrace along the street. We sat, and just like at lunch, LB sat across from me, and Alvaro sat next to me.
Alvaro and I have been friends for so long that we share food and talk without reservation. I explained in my last blog that LB doesn’t participate in conversation, and once again, he had his headphones in and his phone out. As the night went on, it dawned on me that the bright lights around us stood in sharp contrast to the growing shadow at our table. To be honest, it felt like I was on a date with Alvaro this particular night. We ordered another shot of tequila and looked at the menu together because we were sitting next to each other. We decided to share two dishes. LB was given an English menu, so I didn’t need to help him with translation. The tequila came, and we did a shot again, just as the waiter’s wife stopped by with their two dogs. One was a puppy, a Golden Retriever, and a Husky. They were beyond adorable. Alvaro is my favorite photographer, and he took pictures of me kissing and petting the dogs. Our meals came, and I really felt like the holidays were upon us that night. I wasn’t working at my hotel; I was just having fun with two men I loved. My boyfriend and my best friend. It was unfortunate, I thought, that my best friend was more engaged in this delightful evening than my boyfriend.
Alvaro and I shared our meals while LB listened to his phone. There it was again, the divide I always noticed, sitting right in front of me at the festive table. The conversation moved around him. The warmth between Alvaro and me seemed to highlight just how separate LB was, caught up in his own world. The food, the laughter, the energy of the night: all of it seemed to pass by him, untouched. I felt the absence growing, even as I did my best to ignore it. Alvaro and I ordered a dessert to share. He knows me so well that he said, “Michele, you know you don’t finish anything, so we will share.” The three of us finished our desserts and wandered the city a little more before taking a cab back to the hotel. We said goodnight to Alvaro, decided to meet at 8:30 for breakfast, and then drove to Nevada del Ruiz.
I want to share more about Nevada del Ruiz. It is an active volcano rising 5,321 meters above sea level in the Central Andes of Colombia. Part of Los Nevados National Natural Park, it is known for its glacier, unique wildlife, and the stark beauty of the páramo landscape. The volcano is under constant monitoring due to seismic activity and gas emissions, and access is sometimes restricted for safety reasons. At that altitude, the air is thin, and the cold is sharp. Many visitors experience altitude sickness. The landscape feels almost otherworldly. It looks like a desert, yet it is freezing. The plants that survive there have adapted to the harsh páramo ecosystem. Among them lives the tiny Buffy Helmetcrest hummingbird, thriving in conditions that seem impossible. When we arrived, photographers were everywhere, capturing the biodiversity that manages to flourish in such extremes. We stopped at the park entrance to take photos before continuing to the main visitor area. As we climbed higher, the temperature dropped, and the vegetation became even more fascinating. Park rangers greeted us and explained that we could walk toward the volcano at our own risk. It is still active. Alvaro and I were eager to walk for a while, but LB began feeling the effects of the altitude. Instead, we watched the visitor center’s highlight film with English subtitles and asked questions afterwards. Even without hiking far, it felt like a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. Afterward, Alvaro had arranged for us to visit a nearby hotel known for its hot pools heated by volcanic water. We drove there for lunch and time to soak in the naturally warmed baths. The water flowed directly from the volcano, with no jets, no artificial heat — just nature. I am always cold, so slipping into those pools felt heavenly. Surrounded by foliage and small tables set for lunch, it felt peaceful and almost surreal. LB was smiling in the photos we took in the pool. Looking at them now, I see warmth in his face. At the time, I let myself believe that despite the moments of distance I had noticed, we were building something real. After lunch, we made the long drive back to Valle del Cauca and my villa. It had been a beautiful two-day adventure, and I carried with me the quiet hope that we were moving forward together.
We awoke the next morning tired from our road trip. It was LB’s birthday, and I wanted the day to be all about him. We had no plans other than to relax and enjoy the sunny weather, the mountains in the distance sparkling against a clear blue sky. His phone began lighting up with calls and messages from family and friends. I had the day off before guests were scheduled to arrive at the villa the following afternoon. We thought about going to a nearby nature park and restaurant, but it was closed, so I made lunch instead. We sat outside on my covered balcony. There was no need for constant conversation; just being there together felt easy. My dogs lingered nearby, and my cat perched on my chair, poised to jump into my lap at any moment. It felt picture-perfect — peaceful, warm, content. I was looking forward to giving him the presents I had carefully chosen, small things I believed reflected that I had been paying attention to who he was and what he liked. As a December birthday, he had once mentioned that growing up, it often blended into Christmas. I wanted this one to stand alone. There was a cake waiting, just for him. We opened a bottle of wine, and the conversation flowed. I always enjoyed when LB talked; I just wished he did it more often. My son came upstairs with a surprise — three Cuban cigars. Later, when we lit the candles on the cake, he joined us again. Everything felt light and easy.
LB was staying at more than a house — he was at a small resort wrapped in nature, something I had built with intention and years of work. I wanted him to see that. I wanted him to understand that hosting him wasn’t effortless, even if I tried to make it look that way. The thing about generosity, though, is that when it goes unnoticed, it begins to feel less like giving and more like erasing yourself. I wasn’t asking for grand gestures. Just awareness. A small acknowledgment. A simple offer. Instead, I found myself quietly adjusting — covering the extra help, planning the meals, filling the silence, smoothing the edges. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. That this was just what you did when someone you cared about visited. But somewhere beneath the hummingbirds and mountain views, a small question had started to take root:
Was I hosting a partner… or accommodating a guest? I have friends and family visiting often. I am usually very clear about the costs. I should have been with LB also. Staying at my resort is not the same as using an extra bedroom, like we do when we visit friends and family. My place is organized and needs to be run with efficiency. There is a lot that needs to be cared for all day, every single day. This is why I need someone there at all times. I cannot just up and leave on a whim. It takes careful planning. Again, LB paid the last time he visited; this time, there was no mention of any compensation.
We decided to visit another nature reserve nearby in my little town for lunch. Guests were arriving later, and the rest of LB’s stay would overlap with my Villa’s reservations. I had lost some money by closing for a few nights, so I wasn’t going to do that again. My employee was scheduled for most of the remaining days of his visit. When we got home, I made a couple of tequila-and-lemon drinks for us to enjoy by the lake. We had spent a lovely day together — just the two of us at lunch, then mingling briefly with the guests when they arrived. They were from New York City, like LB. The evening continued with a light meal, after which we went upstairs to sit and have wine. LB was getting a bit drunk — not in a bad way, just happy and relaxed. When he was in that mood, he could be incredibly charming. His laughter came easily, and for a while, it felt like we had settled into something comfortable. I suggested we watch a Netflix series I thought he might enjoy, although I had already begun to notice how rarely he seemed genuinely interested in the things I liked. We watched one episode, and just as I was starting to relax into the stillness of the night, he turned to me with sudden intensity. “Let’s get married. I’ll sign any paper you want to say I want nothing from you. Tomorrow, let’s go to town, get a license, and just do it. We can find a lawyer. I love you so much. What do you think?” He was drunk, but not sloppy — just euphoric. I was a little buzzed myself. Still, I wasn’t going to agree to marriage. Even in that softened, wine-warmed moment, he could not sway me. This wasn’t the first time he had pushed the idea so forcefully. And as he spoke, I found myself wondering whether his urgency was coming from love — or from something else entirely. I didn’t hesitate. “I’m never getting married again,” I told him calmly. “You know that.” He did know. I had been clear about it from the beginning. Marriage was not something I wanted — not now, not ever again. There was no wavering in my voice, no romantic pause to consider the fantasy of it. I meant what I said. Looking back, I sometimes wonder why the idea of marriage seemed to matter so much to him. The more firmly I stated my position, the more often he returned to it. It wasn’t romantic to me; it felt urgent. Almost as if my refusal unsettled something in him. I couldn’t understand why, if that’s what it was, love needed a contract so quickly. And I wasn’t going to bend on that boundary.
The next morning, after breakfast, we went shopping for clothes. LB wanted to buy lighter clothing that fit the tropical paradise where I live. As he picked out clothes, he casually suggested that he would leave them in my closet when he flew home. That way, he wouldn’t need to bring a suitcase next time he visited. Maybe only a backpack. His suggestion made me pause. I wasn’t ready for permanence like that. I wasn’t ready to end the relationship, but my enthusiasm was dwindling. I had told myself that being in my environment together would reveal a lot about each other. And it was. We continued shopping, and I had been noticing changes in him physically as well. When we exercised together in Bogotá, I told him how much I liked that he enjoyed exercising the way I did. Lately, I could see he had gained weight. It showed when we tried Yoga, and again that day in the fitting room mirrors. It wasn’t simply about appearance; it was about lifestyle alignment-about whether we valued the same things. Also, it occurred to me that he had brought up marriage again the night before. I didn’t know how to address the fact that he asked me to marry him when we stopped for lunch. I hoped to do it in a humorous way while still getting my point across.
As we ate, I brought up the subject of marriage when I said, “Hey, I thought we would run by city hall to check on how long it takes to get a marriage license. What do you think?” The look of surprise on LB’s face was priceless. I tilted my head couquettishly and waited. He actually smiled a real smile and then laughed. “I was just caught up in the moment last night.” Maybe he had said things like that in past relationships. Maybe other women found them romantic. I held his gaze and smiled back because my point had been made. I didn’t just let his easy dismissal slide. There was a pattern: big declarations, then easy brush-offs. I felt like he was giving me little tests to see how much I would accept.
The Saturday before he left, I had guests and wasn’t available to keep him company. He spent his time out on the balcony that had become his favorite place to sit. There were wine glasses, coffee cups, and his computer clustered around him. I was growing used to picking up after him, brushing aside my annoyance. That night, I gave him his Christmas gifts as he was leaving early on Monday. Again, like his birthday, I had planned them thoughtfully. He had nothing for me. During his entire visit, I had been making sure he was comfortable, entertained, and cared for, the way I would for a paying guest. Yet I couldn’t recall where he considered what I might need during his stay. It dawned on me that this is who he is, a person who consistently took but didn’t give.
His last day was more accommodating of what he had asked for before he visited. He wanted a BBQ. I had arranged for my dear friends to come over to meet him. These two young people are the ones I like to call my Colombian children. I adore them. They are part of my close circle of friends here in Colombia. They speak perfect English. I thought we would have a fun day of interacting and that they would get to know LB. As you can imagine, it wasn’t that way at all. LB had no interest in intermingling with Kevin and Katherine. He had asked for this BBQ! BBQs are about grilling together, socializing, talking, and sharing. It wasn’t even close to that. LB barely made an appearance, except when the table was set for lunch, after Kevin had done all of the work grilling, his girlfriend had done all of the preparing, and Adriana had done all of the effort of arranging the table on the balcony. LB joined the table, sat down, ate without saying a word to anyone, then got up and left. That was it. I was stunned. I had sprained my ankle the day before and had not been helping because I needed to rest it. I had mentioned to LB that we love to play games, and I hoped he would join in the fun. Nope, he got up and left the table. Kevin and Kathe asked me if I wanted to play Rumicube with them. I said no, and I don’t know why. I felt confused by everything about his stay, his bad manners, his indifference, and his social ineptitude. I was embarrassed. I knew if I sat there and played games, I would blurt out how upset I was by his behavior. The same as when he acted that way at the beginning of his visit, and my son joined us at dinner.
to be continued….have you ever looked back on a relationship and realized the warning signs were there all along? I’d love to hear your thoughts or experiences.
