The “Date Them ’Til You Hate Them” Theory Is All Over TikTok—So I Asked an Expert If It’s Actually Healthy

Mia found comfort in the routine she’d built with her boyfriend. Four years of ordering the same pad Thai takeout, arguing about whose turn it was to do the laundry, drifting off to the glow of yet another rewatch of The Office. With him, she felt safe—tucked into the steady hum of partnership, where you can predict a sigh before it leaves the other’s mouth. But under that comfort ran an uneasy current. His phone lighting up with late-night notifications. The way his gaze lingered a beat too long on other women. The casual dismissal when she’d voice something vulnerable. Every tender moment seemed shadowed by a quiet disrespect, leaving her torn between the man who felt like home and the man who made her feel small.

The turning point came one night at a party. She watched him lean in too close to another girl, his hand brushing her arm the same way he had when they first started dating. When Mia pulled him aside later, he huffed out his usual retort: “You’re overreacting again.” Something about the dismissiveness—the certainty that he could hurt her and get away with it—hardened in her chest. She realized no amount of arguing would change the story.

So the next day, she decided to try something different. No more late-night confrontations, no more begging to be taken seriously. Instead, she went quiet. And at first, the silence dulled the sting of being unseen—if he wasn’t going to hear her, she’d simply stop speaking. But as weeks passed, that numbness curdled. What once felt like self-protection turned into distance; what once felt like distance soured into contempt. Soon, it wasn’t just the ignored texts or the smug deflections that hurt. It was the way his chewing grated her ears. How the sound of his breathing made her skin crawl. Even the sight of his sneakers in the hallway filling her with dread. The man she’d once loved didn’t just feel indifferent now. He felt unbearable.

What Mia didn’t know then—but would later discover on TikTok—was that she was living out the Date Them ’Til You Hate Them Theory: a breakup strategy built not on sudden endings, but on quiet detachment.

Meet The Expert

Dr. Tara Suwinyattichaiporn is a Kinsey-certified sexologist, tenured professor of relational communication and award-winning sex researcher/ dating coach based in Los Angeles. She continues to conduct quantitative research at California State University Fullerton and hosts a podcast called Luvbites by Dr. Tara that focuses on sexual wellness and sexploration. Her goal is to normalize sex talks, and help people feel more sexually fulfilled through confidence and communication coaching.

The theory took off thanks to a viral TikTok from creator Meg Neil, who filmed a “get ready with me” while explaining how she managed to leave her four-year relationship without falling apart. “I dated him until I hated him,” she says matter-of-factly at the start of the clip. Instead of confronting every slight or begging him to change, she went quiet. “You’re going to let them disrespect you,” she explains. “You’re going to watch them disrespect you…until you no longer want to associate with them anymore.”

It’s a blunt survival tactic: by letting the relationship rot in silence, she argues, the love naturally fades into resentment. And once disgust replaces longing, leaving doesn’t feel tragic—it feels inevitable. As she puts it, the very things that once broke her heart—the late-night texts, the casual disregard, even the sound of him breathing—became the fuel that freed her.

The comments under the video read like a group chat of women who’ve been there. “I cried more in the relationship than the breakup,” wrote one user. Another admitted, “Hate to say it but it’s the only way to guarantee you move on, fully clean cut.” Others chimed in with their own lived versions: “I actually did this. Three months later, and I’ve not shed a single tear.” “This always works… I LIVE by this.” 

Yet, while scrolling through this sea of positive feedback, I couldn’t help but wonder: is “dating them ’til you hate them” actually healthy—or just another way of numbing pain until it boils over? I spoke to an expert to find out.

In psychology, it’s common knowledge that when relationships sour, people tend to fall into a few predictable patterns. Back in 1983, researchers Caryl Rusbult and Daniel Zembrodt mapped it out as the EVLN model: Exit, Voice, Loyalty and Neglect. Some people cut their losses and leave (Exit). Some fight for change (Voice). Some grit their teeth and stick it out (Loyalty). And then there’s Neglect (N)—the quiet erosion, where you stop trying, stop talking and wait for the relationship to collapse on its own.

The “Date Them ’Til You Hate Them Theory” is a textbook case of Neglect. Instead of confronting core issues or walking away, you allow it to pile up until the disgust outweighs the attachment. On TikTok, it’s packaged as empowerment: a breakup hack that spares you the tears. But as Dr. Tara Suwinyattichaiporn tells me, it’s not always that simple. “Some people use this approach because they lack effective communication skills to reject someone or enforce their boundaries.” For others, the withdrawal can function as a coping mechanism—“a way to take the time they need to find resolution before ending a relationship.”

Yet, psychologists warn that neglect is the most corrosive response of all. Rusbult found that it accelerates decline without offering resolution, while Dr. Tara points out that the toll rarely stays contained. “Once you feel constant negative emotions in your relationship, it doesn’t stay confined to that relationship. It bleeds into other aspects of your life and wellness.” What looks like control—choosing silence over confrontation—is often just heartbreak stretched out. It’s emotional residue that can leak into your health, your friendships, even your job.

Speaking of jobs: “Date Them ‘Til You Hate Them” feels eerily similar to quiet quitting. Only here, it’s not about emails left unanswered—it’s about relationships left to rot. For my generation, this form of disengagement has become the norm. Instead of voicing dissatisfaction, we pull back quietly, hoping resentment will push us to take action. As Dr. Tara notes, many people linger in this phase for months before ever admitting—to themselves or their partner—that the relationship is already over.

Yet, while TikTok frames this as a theory of empowerment—a way to leave on your own terms without the risk of vulnerability—it’s simply a dangerous game of avoidance. Dr. Tara warns that leaving a relationship out of contempt (rather than clarity) traps you in cognitive dissonance: the mental split of “this person hurts me, but I’m still here.” And the thing about dissonance is, it doesn’t disappear—it gets shoved down, only to resurface as burnout or blowups in places that have nothing to do with your partner. What feels like control isn’t control at all; it’s stress finding new exits.

And that, to me, is the bigger problem here. With every new dating “theory” that goes viral, I’m reminded of how allergic we’ve become to confrontation—and how desperate we are to outsmart it. Instead of facing our partners, or ourselves, we’re slipping into silence and celebrating the escape hatch. But the experts point to the same conclusion my gut has been screaming: avoidance doesn’t protect you, it corrodes you. By dodging conflict, we also dodge the possibility of repair, growth or even clarity.

So yes, I’d call this theory toxic—not because it makes leaving easier, but because it leaves us paralyzed. We’re not moving on, we’re marinating in stagnation. And while TikTok will keep churning out new hacks to “game” heartbreak, the harder truth remains: the only way out of love is through it.