The Cutest Aggression

I heard a red flag in a baby voice. She called it cuteness aggression.

How It Started

I had planned a short work-from-anywhere escape. One of the better perks of remote life: answering emails with a sea view while pretending you’re not slowly burning out. New country, new coffee spots, same job. Life felt balanced. Or at least good at faking it. That’s when I met her.

We got drinks. We vibed. One thing led to another, and by midnight, she was in my apartment. By morning, still there. She stuck around while I wrapped up some meetings, lounging like we’d known each other for months.

Later, during a walk through the park, I mentioned a quick seaside getaway I had planned.
She smiled, clearly into the idea. “I want to come,” she said. The sea excited her.

Cool, I thought. Some company would be nice.I sent her the details. Checked in to make sure she was still into it.

The First Crack

She was. With one small condition. She’d only join if I paid for everything.

I blinked. “Wait,  are you serious?”

She was.

“My friends’ boyfriends pay for their trips,” she said. “I want to tell them you’d do that for me too.”

Ah. Boyfriend. We’d known each other for five days. I paused. Considered my options. Gave the only answer I could: “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

She came anyway. A solid start.

What Followed

A couple nights into the trip, we were wandering the old town when she looked at me and said casually, “I just want to push you into this wall.”

I stopped. “Sorry, you want to do what?”

She grinned. “It’s just cuteness aggression. I’m being cute.”

It didn’t feel like it.

The vibe shifted. Not dramatically. But enough. The kind of offhand comment that leaves a mark, even if you can’t name why. I kept things light, but something had cracked beneath the surface.

When we got back to the city, she invited me to work from her place. “Two apartments is too much,” she said, while lacing her fingers through mine.

We’d barely met. But now we were apparently merging logistics. That’s when something in me snapped. Quietly. No blow-up. No explanation. Just a deep, physical need to go.

So I left.

Later that evening, she texted. Said she could tell I’d had a panic response. Honestly? She was probably right. The next day, she followed up. Said she’d come visit me next time – in my country, my home.

 “It’ll be better,” she promised. “You’ll feel more relaxed there.”

That was it for me. I ended it. She called it an aggressive cutoff. She wasn’t wrong. And it definitely wasn’t cute.

Note to Self

When someone treats you like you are in relationship after five days, expects you to fund their vacation, and masks control as flirtation, believe what you’re seeing.“Cute” shouldn’t feel claustrophobic. “Cute” shouldn’t feel claustrophobic. Some red flags don’t wave. they whisper. Or giggle. Or test your wallet. Discomfort isn’t always cold feet. Sometimes it’s your body sounding the alarm. When someone’s affection feels like pressure, it’s not chemistry. It’s control, dressed up in charm.