How To Know If He’s Is Just Using You
When people say, “I think he’s using me,” experts often rush to decode intent. I want to slow that impulse down. In my experience, being used isn’t primarily about malicious intent—it’s about relational patterns that consistently extract value without reciprocal investment. That distinction matters, especially for professionals who work with nuance instead of blame.
I’ve seen cases where a man genuinely believes he “likes her,” yet his behavior systematically prioritizes access—sex, emotional soothing, logistical support—over shared responsibility. From a social exchange perspective, the issue isn’t whether affection exists, but whether costs and benefits are structurally misaligned over time. Attachment theory helps here too: avoidant partners can unconsciously optimize for connection-without-obligation, while anxious partners overfunction to stabilize the bond.
What’s tricky is that early dating ambiguity can mimic exploitation. The difference is trajectory. Healthy asymmetry resolves. Utilitarian asymmetry deepens. That’s the frame I’ll be using throughout this piece.
The Imbalances That Set the Stage
Most exploitative dynamics don’t start with red flags waving in the air. They start quietly, often disguised as chemistry, convenience, or “bad timing.” What I’ve noticed—both in casework and real-life conversations—is that being used usually emerges from structural imbalances that feel reasonable in isolation but dangerous in accumulation.
Let’s start with investment. Early on, asymmetry is normal. Someone texts more. Someone initiates plans. No big deal. But over time, patterns solidify. One partner consistently provides emotional regulation (“You’re the only one I can talk to”), logistical ease (rides, favors, flexibility), or sexual access, while the other provides presence only when it suits them. What makes this hard to spot is that the provider often experiences this as closeness, while the receiver experiences it as efficiency.
Ambiguity plays a huge role here. Vague labels, undefined expectations, and “let’s just see where this goes” aren’t inherently bad. But ambiguity becomes a tool when it protects one person from accountability while keeping the other emotionally invested. I once worked with a client whose partner refused labels for over a year but relied on her for daily emotional support and exclusivity. When she finally asked for clarity, he said, “I never promised you anything.” And technically, he was right. Structurally, though, he’d been taking everything a committed relationship offers—without the cost.
Empathy is another under-discussed factor. Highly empathetic, reflective people are more likely to self-interrogate than self-protect. When something feels off, they ask, “Am I being unreasonable?” instead of “Is this balanced?” That internal orientation makes them excellent partners—and excellent candidates for being used. Meanwhile, someone with lower relational sensitivity may not even perceive the imbalance as a problem. To them, it’s just how things are working.
Timing mismatches also matter. Someone going through stress, career instability, or emotional burnout may unconsciously lean on a partner who’s more resourced. That doesn’t automatically equal exploitation. The shift happens when the stressed partner stabilizes but the dynamic doesn’t rebalance. They keep taking. The other keeps giving. Resentment grows, but it’s often misread as insecurity or neediness.
Here’s where power dynamics sneak in. Power isn’t just money or age—it’s optionality. The person who can walk away more easily holds more power. When one partner structures their life around the relationship while the other fits it in around everything else, you get a quiet hierarchy. Decisions start flowing one way. Compromises pile up on one side. And importantly, the higher-power partner often frames this as natural: “You’re just more flexible,” or “You care more about relationships than I do.”
A useful distinction I like to make is between early-stage asymmetry and entrenched imbalance. Early-stage asymmetry responds to feedback. You say, “I need more consistency,” and behavior adjusts. Entrenched imbalance deflects feedback. Requests are labeled as pressure, drama, or ultimatums. That’s a huge tell. When accountability feels like a threat, someone is protecting an extractive setup.
One last thing experts don’t talk about enough: cultural scripts. We’ve normalized men being emotionally avoidant and women being emotionally adaptive. That script alone can sustain utilitarian dynamics for years without anyone naming them as such. When a woman says, “He’s just not good at relationships,” she may actually be describing a system where her adaptability is subsidizing his disengagement.
None of this requires a villain. But it does require structure. And once you start looking at structure instead of intention, the pattern of being “used” becomes much harder to dismiss—and much easier to identify.
The Signs That Point to Being Used
By the time someone asks, “Do you think he’s using me?” there’s usually already a pattern in motion. What experts sometimes underestimate is how consistent, low-level behaviors can be more diagnostic than any single dramatic act. Grand betrayals are rare. Utilitarian engagement is subtle, repetitive, and boringly efficient.
What I want to do here is walk through behavioral indicators that matter not because they’re flashy, but because they persist across contexts and over time.
His availability is need-based, not connection-based
One of the clearest tells is when contact reliably coincides with his needs. He texts when he’s stressed, lonely, horny, or bored. He disappears when things are going well or when you might need something back. This isn’t about frequency; it’s about predictability. If you can map his presence to moments of extraction, that’s not chemistry—that’s scheduling.
I’ve seen this show up in subtle ways. A man who’s “bad at texting” but somehow always finds his phone at 11:30 p.m. A partner who vanishes during your hard weeks but resurfaces the moment his life destabilizes. Experts sometimes chalk this up to avoidant attachment, which may be true, but avoidance doesn’t explain selective responsiveness. Utility does.
Intimacy escalates faster than responsibility
Another pattern that raises my eyebrow is accelerated closeness without parallel obligation. Deep disclosures early on. Intense sexual intimacy. Statements like “I’ve never told anyone this.” All of that can feel meaningful, but intimacy without responsibility is often a shortcut to access.
The key question I ask is simple: does closeness increase his care-taking behavior, or only his comfort? If emotional or physical intimacy leads to him leaning more heavily on you—while offering no additional reliability in return—you’re looking at a one-way deepening.
Future talk exists, but future planning doesn’t
This one trips up even seasoned professionals. He talks about the future, but never plans it. “Someday,” “eventually,” “when things calm down.” The language sounds reassuring, but it functions as a holding pattern. Future talk without logistics is emotional sedation.
I once heard a client say, “He talks about us traveling together all the time, but he won’t commit to dinner next week.” That mismatch matters. When someone genuinely sees you as part of their future, they integrate you into time-bound decisions. When they’re using you, the future stays abstract—because abstraction keeps access without commitment.
Emotional labor flows in one direction
Ask yourself who does the remembering, soothing, adjusting, and repairing. Who notices tone shifts. Who initiates hard conversations. In utilitarian dynamics, one partner becomes the emotional infrastructure. The other benefits from it.
This isn’t about keeping score. It’s about noticing whether emotional effort is reciprocated when stakes are high. When you’re upset, does he lean in—or does he withdraw, minimize, or redirect the focus back to himself? Consistent emotional asymmetry is rarely accidental.
Boundaries are negotiated only when they inconvenience him
Here’s a big one. When you set a boundary that benefits him, it’s respected. When you set one that limits his access, it becomes a problem. Suddenly you’re “changing,” “being difficult,” or “overthinking.”
Healthy partners may struggle with boundaries, but they don’t punish them. Utilitarian partners test how much access they can retain. If every boundary requires a debate, an explanation, or emotional fallout, the relationship is being optimized for his comfort, not mutual respect.
What Starts to Happen Inside You
This part matters just as much as behavior, because exploitation isn’t only visible from the outside. It leaves cognitive and emotional fingerprints on the person being used. And once you know what to look for, those internal signals are hard to unsee.
You feel confused more than hurt
People expect exploitation to feel painful. In reality, it often feels disorienting. You’re not devastated—you’re unsettled. Conversations don’t quite land. Reassurances don’t quite reassure. You keep thinking, “If I could just understand this better, it would make sense.”
That confusion isn’t a failure of insight. It’s a response to inconsistent reinforcement. Your nervous system is trying to resolve a pattern that doesn’t resolve.
You find yourself explaining his behavior to yourself
One of the earliest internal markers is excessive cognitive labor. You’re constantly contextualizing. He’s busy. He’s stressed. He didn’t mean it like that. Notice how often your internal dialogue works to stabilize the relationship instead of evaluating it.
Experts sometimes frame this as anxious attachment, but I think that’s incomplete. Anxious attachment doesn’t create rationalization out of nowhere—it’s often activated by environments that are unpredictably rewarding.
Your standards quietly erode
This one’s uncomfortable, but important. Over time, what you’d accept shifts. Things you once flagged as dealbreakers become “not ideal, but…” You start negotiating with your own expectations.
I’ve had highly competent, self-aware people say, “I don’t need much, just consistency.” And then accept wildly inconsistent behavior. That gap between stated standards and lived reality is a strong indicator that self-trust is being compromised.
Relief replaces joy when he shows up
This is subtle and powerful. When he finally texts, calls, or commits, you don’t feel excited—you feel relieved. The anxiety drops. Your body exhales. That’s not happiness; that’s nervous system regulation.
When attention functions as relief, the relationship has shifted into a reward-withdrawal cycle. And that cycle is incredibly effective at maintaining attachment, even when satisfaction is low.
You’re afraid to ask for clarity
This fear is often misread as insecurity. In reality, it’s data. You’re afraid because on some level, you know that clarity might cost you access. So you soften questions. You delay conversations. You accept half-answers.
When asking for basic relational definition feels risky, it’s worth asking why. Mutual relationships can tolerate clarity. Utilitarian ones rely on its absence.
Final Thoughts
If there’s one thing I want experts to take away, it’s this: being used isn’t a character flaw, and it isn’t always a conscious act by the other person. It’s a relational structure that rewards one side for staying vague and the other for staying flexible.
Once you shift your lens from intention to pattern, from feelings to function, these dynamics become much easier to identify—and much harder to justify away. And in my experience, that shift alone is often enough to start changing the outcome.
