Hunk Unc: I’ve fallen for my neighbour who’s also my good friend and I’m not allowed to be how do I get over it

Hunk Unc: Last year I told my friend I had feelings for them and they told me they didn't feel that way about me, I believed I had moved on and recently realised I still have those feelings and hate myself for it, I'm not sure what I should do.

Students, today your Unc is pairing up two emotionally shipwrecked souls with the same issue in different fonts.

One of you confessed feelings, got rejected, thought you’d moved on, and then your heart did the deeply rude thing of circling back for a second lap. The other has fallen for a neighbour who is also a good friend and, for whatever reason, is off-limits.

So today we’re talking about unrequited love.

But here’s the thing: you do not need to hate yourself for having feelings.

Feelings are not crimes. They’re not assignments you failed. They’re not evidence that you’re weak or pathetic. They’re just feelings. Annoying, inconvenient, badly timed feelings.

The trick is not to avoid them. To get over someone, you usually have to go through it, not around it. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be embarrassed. Let yourself have the occasional pathetic little moment. Then get up, drink some water, and do not text them hoping for things to change. 

Unrequited love is painful because it leaves a gap. There’s you, there’s them, and then there’s this imaginary relationship in your head that never actually got stress-tested in the real world.

You know the charming version of them. The good friend version. The neighbour-over-the-fence version. The person who smiles nicely, says the right thing, and makes your brain go, “Ah yes, this is my soulmate, obviously.”

But you don’t know the full box. You’re only seeing a few sides.

Maybe they’re lovely to you but terrible at communicating. Maybe they’re cute across the fence but have breath that could curl wallpaper. Maybe they seem perfect because you’ve never had to argue with them about dishes, money, jealousy, family, or why they think putting wet towels on the bed is acceptable.

So part one is this: stop treating the fantasy version of them like it’s the truth. You don’t actually know what being with them would be like. You know the idea of it. And the idea is what hurts the most.

Part two is even more annoying, but more useful: you already have your answer.

One of you was rejected. The other can’t be with them. That is closure. 

Their answer, or the situation, has drawn the line for you. Your job now is to stop trying to negotiate with the line.

That means creating a bit of distance where you can. Mute the stories if you need to. Stop engineering little run-ins. Don’t keep checking for signs. Don’t look for breadcrumbs in every friendly message. You are trying to heal, not gather evidence for a case that has already been dismissed.

And please, for the love of all emotionally fragile students, do not beat yourself up because the feelings came back. Sometimes moving on is not a clean exit. Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, and one weird dream that ruins your whole morning.

Feel the feelings. Accept the answer. Give the fantasy less oxygen. Put your attention back into your own life until, eventually, they stop being an unrequited crush, and just become something you look back on occasionally and go “I’m glad I moved on from that.”