Letters to Jyl: June 15, 2026

We’re having OBSESSION issues with this week’s Letters to Jyl, so BEAR with us.

Every week, readers send me questions about relationships, career problems, family disputes, supernatural incidents, neighborhood feuds, and the occasional eldritch inconvenience. This week’s letter comes from a reader who wonders whether he was wrong for helping the woman he loved finally see what was right in front of her.

Dear Jyl,

I am writing because everyone seems determined to make me the villain of a story that was supposed to be about love. For years, I have been in love with a woman named Nikki. We worked together and became friends. We spent a lot of time together. I paid attention to her. I listened when she talked. I remembered the things that mattered to her. I was patient, kind, supportive, and always there when she needed someone.

I never pressured her. I never demanded anything from her. I simply hoped that one day she would realize what was standing right in front of her. The problem is that no matter how much I cared, nothing changed. No matter how much effort I put in, I was always just Bear. The nice guy. The dependable guy. The guy women claim they want but never actually choose.

Then I found a One Wish Willow. Before you judge me, please understand that my intentions were good. I didn’t wish for money, power, fame, or success. I wished for Nikki to love me more than anyone else in the world. Honestly, I thought it was romantic. For the first time, Nikki looked at me the way I had always looked at her. She wanted to be with me. She wanted me. After years of feeling invisible, I finally felt seen.

Now people are saying that what I did was selfish, manipulative, and wrong. They’re acting like I committed some terrible crime when all I ever wanted was to be loved by the person I loved. So please tell me, was it really so terrible that I wanted the girl I loved to finally see me?

Dear Bear,

I have several thoughts, and not a single one of them is going to validate your victim narrative. I have encountered enough self-described nice guys to know that phrase is nothing but a giant red flag. The most revealing part of your letter is the way you keep score. My dad once told me that when you start keeping score in your relationships, everyone loses. Congratulations on becoming the poster child for that lesson.

You present every conversation, every kind gesture, and every moment of patience like it’s evidence that Nikki should have eventually owed you something. You describe ordinary acts of friendship as though they were selfless, but every one of them came with an expectation attached. You weren’t being a friend; you were building a case for why Nikki should eventually owe you affection.

The problem wasn’t that Nikki failed to see you. You worked together. She spent time with you. She was your friend. She saw you for exactly who you were. What she did not do was choose you. That’s the part of this story you can’t seem to accept. You keep framing Nikki’s feelings as a misunderstanding that needed correcting. As though if she could just see things from your perspective, she would naturally arrive at the same conclusion you did. When that didn’t happen, you decided her autonomy was the problem.

That isn’t love. That’s entitlement. Women are absolutely not obligated to grant men access to themselves simply because a man managed to behave politely in their general vicinity. What makes your letter so unsettling is that you genuinely believe your feelings are the most important thing in the room. Nikki’s desires, choices, boundaries, and agency barely register in your version of events. You never truly saw her as a friend or even a person. To you, she was the reward waiting at the end of a journey you’ve convinced yourself you completed.

You say you wanted Nikki to finally see you. What you actually wanted was for Nikki to stop disagreeing with you. Those are not the same thing. You are not the nice guy in this story. You are the reason women would choose any bear…except you.

—Jyl

Have a question, problem, curse, feud, haunting, crisis, cryptid-related concern, or suspicious situation of your own? Send it to letterstojyl@gmail.com. Anonymous submissions are always welcome.

Jyl Glenn is a writer, editor, formatter, anthologist, poet, and a medical-legal writer and consultant. Her lifelong love affair with horror began at a very early age when she was left unattended on the weekend Poltergeist debuted on HBO. And then she figured out she could read any horror book she liked as long as she hung out at the public library, even if the librarian deemed it not to be age appropriate. Jyl was born and raised in New York and now lives in Tulsa with her dog and kitten. She loves creepy art, dark poetry, and pink dinosaurs. When she isn’t dabbling in the macabre—she’s most likely asleep.

PLEASE NOTE: The views and opinions of the staff of Memento Mori Ink do not necessarily represent those of Memento Mori Ink or Crystal Lake Publishing, nor do the views of opinions of Crystal Lake necessarily represent those of Memento Mori Ink or its staff. Thank you for understanding.