Love, Hate, Passion, and Rivalry Between Anxious and Avoidant Attachments

Describing the love-hate dynamic between anxious and avoidant attachers as “love, hate, passion, and rivalry” is fitting—their relationship unfolds exactly in these four phases. But why focus on anxious and avoidant attachments? Doesn’t secure attachment matter?

First, secure attachers are interesting too. In the early stages of love, attachment styles don’t immediately show, so anyone can attract each other. However, if an anxious attacher is severely anxious, a secure attacher might pull away after a while. If the anxiety is mild, the secure attacher’s positive influence can sustain the relationship. When a secure attacher dates an avoidant one, the secure side might feel the avoidant is just taking advantage or being neurotic—meaningless. The avoidant, in turn, sees the secure as practical and cold. That’s why anxious and avoidant attachers end up stuck in this endless dance.

Another reason? Secure relationships are stable, while anxious and avoidant attachers often don’t understand love, leading to frequent breakups. They stay in the dating pool longer, making encounters more likely. Some say avoidant attachers are rare—statistics show around 10-20%—but why do so many people talk about them on Zhihu? Think of it: 10% avoidants who date 4 times mean 40% of people will encounter them. Many avoidants date more than four times, even juggling multiple flings simultaneously.

Anxious and avoidant attachers share similarities and complement each other. Similarities: both crave love, fear negative judgments, and focus heavily on their emotions. Complements: Anxious types are passionate; avoidant types are calm and mysterious. Anxious attachers give; avoidant attachers receive. Anxious types seek closeness; avoidant types need space. In a way, they seem like meant to be.

When they meet, it’s like finding a soulmate. Anxious attachers see avoidants as elegant and emotionally stable, admiring their non-desperation to commit—it’s like discovering a treasure. Avoidant attachers see the anxious one’s radiance: that passion feels like it could melt their frozen heart, their light like it could heal childhood wounds and pull them from an emotional abyss. A voice inside shouts: I can be saved. I can feel joy and happiness too. I don’t have to live like a zombie anymore.

“Who knew they were like this?” That’s the verdict from both anxious and avoidant attachers soon into dating.

It all starts perfectly, like a match made in heaven. But the avoidant realizes: Their light and warmth aren’t endless. They give a little and expect return. This isn’t true love—maybe they’re here to hurt me. I need to keep my distance, stay cautious, and not let them see my doubts. I’ll observe more.

The anxious attacher is confused: We were fine. Why don’t they want to see me? Why do they need space? Isn’t this what lovers do? Did I do something wrong? Do they like me less? Or did they like someone else? Yes, they must have! They’ve done nothing for me except say nice things. I’ve been played. Cue a storm of questions and frustration.

The avoidant retreats into their shell; the anxious attacher is on the brink of collapse. It’s a showdown: whose tendency wins— the avoidant’s need to withdraw or the anxious’s need to cling? If the avoidant cracks first, they might dump the other abruptly. If the anxious cracks first, they’ll spiral into self-blame and seek help. But this isn’t a quick goodbye—this is anxious and avoidant we’re talking about.

Most often, the avoidant uses defensive tactics: nostalgia for exes, flirting with others, emotional or physical distance—anything to feel safe. The anxious attacher, meanwhile, reflects, learns, tries to communicate, and even pretends to be “good”—giving space, living their life, and showing quiet care.

With space, the avoidant lowers their guard. The anxious one is clingy, but they didn’t leave. They’re trying to make this work and keep giving. Maybe I should give it another shot.

This is the most painful phase.

Who hasn’t felt shredded after breaking up with an avoidant?
Who hasn’t seen an avoidant act shredded during a breakup?

After endless push-and-pull and on-again-off-again, you reach a crossroads: either dive deeper into mutual harm, or endure the pain of ending it. The anxious attacher questions everything; the avoidant never trusted relationships anyway.

The avoidant, misunderstood, might explain: I can only eat one bowl of rice, but you want me to eat three. I tried for you at first, but I can’t do it every day. I get sick, and you keep scolding me for not eating enough. Maybe we should stop.

The anxious attacher, confused, wonders: Is the rice that bad? Did I cook it wrong? Everyone else loves my cooking, but you hate it and put me down. I know you’re eating elsewhere—other people’s food must taste better. Fine, go eat there. I’ll cook for someone who appreciates it.

The avoidant thinks: They left. They never loved me. It’s my fault—I’m unlovable.
The anxious thinks: I’m leaving with so much regret. I loved them. Why couldn’t they change a little? We could’ve been happy. Will they be okay? Will someone understand them better? Are they already with someone else? It hurts.

The avoidant: No news from them. I miss them, but I have ways to numb the pain—I’ve had them since childhood.
The anxious: They never loved me—they used me. I want to retaliate. How can I make them feel my pain?

Eventually, avoidants might return to “normal” life: some decide they’re not cut out for love and swear off dating, while others jump into new flings or even rebound immediately.

Anxious attachers scroll through news, TikTok, movies, or Quora to kill time. Then they stumble on an article about avoidant attachment. First thought: Wait, this is a thing? Then comes pity and a urge to “save” them—they scour the web for reconciliation tips, wearing their mission like a sign: I Need to Fix Them.