You know the drill: you show up, you help, you listen… and it’s radio silence on the other end. Barely a thank you if at all, no emotional mirroring - nada, zilch, nothing.. Just you, pouring into a bottomless cup.
Last time we talked about how attachment styles create predictable patterns of giving and receiving. This time, let’s zoom out because sometimes the person who can’t meet you isn’t avoidant, anxious, or disorganized. Sometimes they’re just human in the following very predictable ways:
Some people are genuinely juggling three jobs, sick parents, and a toddler who only sleeps in 23-minute increments. Others are “busy” doom-scrolling, perfecting their Spotify playlists, attending meetings that could’ve been emails. IT doesn’t matter. Either way, the result is the same: their bandwidth is maxed out on things that have nothing to do with you. Reciprocity requires spare capacity, and they have none.
Some people live almost entirely in their inner world. Their thoughts, worries, fantasies, and insecurities form a private ecosystem they rarely step out of. The body goes numb, relationships become props, and the world around them blurs into background scenery. Someone else’s kindness barely registers, let alone triggers the impulse to give back.
Some genuinely don’t see what you do for them. They are distracted, dissociated, or so used to being helped (by parents, partners, privilege) that generosity has become an invisible wallpaper. It’s not malice; it’s a perception filter. If you don’t notice the gift, you’re not going to feel the need to reciprocate.
They register your help… but the story still revolves around them. Their needs are urgent, their time and comfort are precious, their feelings are the main character. Your support is noted, filed under “nice, I deserve this,” your effort under “as it should be,” and their story moves on.
A subtle but brutal one. People who grew up being over-praised, over-rescued, or simply told they’re special sometimes develop the belief that attention from others is expected. Over time, it calcifies into a worldview: people should show up for me. To give back would imply equality, and entitlement can't tolerate that - it is allergic to mutuality.
Reciprocity isn’t rocket science, but it does require noticing how someone feels, caring about it, and regulating your own impulses long enough to respond thoughtfully. These skills are acquired through modelling, practice, and reflection, but plenty of adults never got the chance to develop them. So they operate with the emotional reflexes of a child in an adult body: impulsive, reactive, unable to take another person’s inner world into account for long.
You don’t need a diagnosis to act narcissistically. Most of us slide into self-centeredness when stressed, ashamed, or insecure. Some rely on image management; some chase comfort over connection; some put convenience over fairness. It’s not villainy - it’s human frailty, but it still blocks reciprocity.
Two good people can have completely different relationship blueprints. To you, friendship might mean depth, consistency, emotional presence. To them, it might mean ease, humour, and the occasional catch-up. Neither is wrong, but pairing two mismatched expectations is like trying to sync two devices using different operating systems: the connection keeps dropping.
If they match your energy today, you might expect it tomorrow. They’re not willing to risk that. So they stay under-invested from the start. Some people are terrified of what reciprocity commits them to. If they match your energy today, you might expect it tomorrow and they’re not sure they can deliver. So they under-give from the start, keeping the ledger comfortably uneven. Less pressure, less responsibility, less risk.
Some people were punished for caring. Some were drained by takers. Their version of self-protection looks like under-giving. They’re not selfish—just scorched.
People who were punished for being caring, used for their generosity, or consistently let down often adopt a defensive stance: If I don’t invest, I can’t be hurt. What looks like defensiveness is sometimes trauma wearing a practical coat. They’re not selfish; they’re shell-shocked. They’re not avoiding generosity because they don’t value you, but because of their past experiences.
Most of these are survival strategies, wiring, upbringing, exhaustion, or blindness. That doesn’t mean you have to keep pouring into a dry well, but it explains why explaining, waiting, or giving more until you run dry doesn't work.
Reciprocity isn’t a favour you do for others; it’s the bare minimum for any relationship that doesn’t slowly poison your self-worth. You're not required to diagnose why someone can’t meet you or mirror your energy. You’re only obligated to stop offering it where it’s chronically un-reflected.
You already know when the giving only flows one way. Excuses might feel warm for a bit, but awareness is what sets you free.
The fix is boundaries, better curation of your inner circle, and a refusal to audition for roles in someone else’s life.
The next time you notice yourself over-extending, pause. Breathe. Then ask yourself:
A quick way to tell if you’re a relationship or a convenience.
This catches people-pleasing in the act.
A good measure of how far your standards have drifted.
Most of us give better advice than we live.
Sometimes the magnet is inside you.
Potential is a beautiful illusion and a terrible business model.
Confusion is usually the body whispering “no.”
Energy is a currency. Track the ledger.
These questions aren’t designed to make less available for one-sided dynamics disguised as “connections.” The goal isn’t coldness but clarity so you stop teaching people that your time, care, and love are free samples with no expiration date.
Secure relating begins the moment you refuse to reward emotional laziness - yours or theirs. Reciprocity isn’t rare. It’s just hard to find when your energy is tied up in teaching people how to treat you.
The real gift in one-sided patterns is the powerful shift back toward yourself. The moment you stop over-giving, the fog clears. You see who’s capable of meeting you, who’s willing to grow, and who simply can’t - or won’t - show up with the same heart you do.
And that clarity isn’t cold. It’s liberating.
Because the relationships that are meant for you don’t require heroics. They don’t drain you into silence, long-winded explanations about them or leave you guessing. They feel like two hands on the same rope, pulling in rhythm. They feel like a breath of fresh air requiring little to no effort.
When you make space by stepping back from the lopsided, life has a way of filling that space with people who mirror your care, match your bravery, and treat your presence as a privilege, not a convenience.
Let your boundaries do the teaching instead. And trust this: when you stop giving by default, you will start attracting the right people.