The Feminine Code: The Unspoken Laws of Power, Magnetism, and Self-Respect

A sample of The Feminine Code: The Unspoken Laws of Power, Magnetism, and Self-Respect

The Unspoken Laws of Power, Magnetism, and Self-Respect

By Sabrina Alexis Bendory

Contents

• Prologue — 5
• Introduction: The Feminine Code — 19
• Part 1: How You Were Programmed: Culture, Conditioning, and Your Nervous System — 25
• Chapter 1: The Culture That Made Women Chase — 27
• Chapter 2: Why Chaos Feels Like Chemistry — 43
• Chapter 3: The Wound Behind the Pattern — 55
• Part 2: How to See Clearly and Break the Spell — 79
• Chapter 4: The Hook and the Hollowing Out — 81
• Chapter 5: Rejection Sensitivity & Trauma Loops — 97
• Chapter 6: When Detachment Becomes Dignity — 111
• Part 3: The Laws of Feminine Power — 123
• Chapter 7: The Code of Silence & Mystery — 127
• Chapter 8: The Code of Standards — 137
• Chapter 9: The Code of Absence — 149
• Chapter 10: The Code of Emotional Regulation — 161
• Part 4: How to Live as the Magnetic Woman — 177
• Chapter 11: Peace as Your New Chemistry — 181
• Chapter 12: Discernment Over Hope — 191
• Chapter 13: Loving Without Losing Yourself — 201
• Chapter 14: Becoming the Woman Who Chooses — 209
• Conclusion — 217

Prologue — pages 5–15

Few things are as painful as mourning the loss of someone who never even existed.

But let’s back up. Picture me, young with seemingly everything going for me...the only thing missing was my awareness of it. I was desperate. Empty. Lonely. And all I wanted was a guy to save me from all of it. I was tired of partying and hookups and disappointments.

At the beginning of my junior year of college, my roommate asked me what my hopes were for the year. I sighed. "I just really want a boyfriend."

"Sabrina," she said disapprovingly. "That’s like...not something you’re supposed to say out loud."

I was embarrassed. But she asked, and I answered!

Enter Nick.

We met at a bar one night, and I was hooked before he even said a word. He was everything I had ever dreamed of—tall, chiseled, gorgeous.

He came up to me and asked if he could dance with my friend. I was tempted to throw a drink in his face out of sheer frustration, but restrained myself and told him bluntly that she has a boyfriend. Then he asked if he could dance with me and while I should have said no, he was just so everything in that moment...and off we were.

We danced, we kissed, we left to go somewhere quiet to talk. He was hot and emotionally unavailable—which was enough for my nervous system to clock him as potential soulmate material. But he was also smart. Funny. Charming. And I needed him.

There were a few red flags that emerged right away:

He’d been dumped a week ago. Depressed, miserable, not in any way over his ex.

He was struggling at his job as a real estate agent—it was commission-based so he had no money coming in and was deeply in debt.

He clearly wasn’t ready for anything serious. Broken. Miserable. And did I mention deeply depressed?

But he also made me feel seen, chosen, and desired. He looked me square in the eyes and asked me things, real things. He wanted to know me, to understand me, to connect with me deeply...not just the surface-level connection guys would feign with the intention of getting in your pants, connection for the sake of connecting.

I truly couldn’t believe it...I couldn’t believe someone like him chose me. It felt like karma was finally being kind—like this was my consolation prize after so many years of misery.

The first hiccup in our relationship—ok fine, I’ll be honest...it wasn’t a hiccup, it was a car alarm screaming in the middle of the night that should have jolted me awake, but instead, caused me to put a pillow over my head and turn the other way—was when I found out he was seeing his ex behind my back. I accidentally took home a hair clip of hers, thinking it was mine. When I called him out on it, he made it seem like this was my fault for having expectations.

"Sabs, if you want to be here, great. But I told you my situation was complicated. You can stay, or you can go, but this is what it is."

I felt guilty and ashamed. He’s right! He told me he was having a hard time and I’m the one who wants to be here...so I really have no right to be upset that he’s been secretly seeing his ex! I need to work harder. Show him why I’m the girl for him.

I backed off. Gave him space. Then he reached out—things with the ex were done, for real this time. Glory Hallelujah! I was at his place in no time to pick up right where we left off.

The relationship was amazing...for a few weeks.

But then...

Oh, but then...

It all started. Everything—and I mean everything—was my fault. He took every opportunity to point out why I wasn’t good enough. We spent every moment together. I’d wake up, go to class, and go right back to his apartment. He didn’t like my friends, so I stopped hanging out with them. He didn’t like to be alone, so I was with him every moment I could be. He basically stopped going to work...he was miserable and I existed to take the misery away.

And I obliged. I did everything for him. I cooked, cleaned, did his laundry, stayed up all night comforting him when the demons were too much. It didn’t matter if I had an exam the next day—he came first! I contorted myself every which way to be enough for him.

And he wouldn’t even call me his girlfriend.

He claimed he was doing me a favor by not being my boyfriend and my heart bled for him. And I accepted that. For a time. Poor guy, he has such a low opinion of himself he doesn’t even feel worthy of being my boyfriend! I need to love him even harder.

But then it wasn’t about that anymore... Anytime the conversation came up, he would say I was pressuring him. Being too needy. That his ex forced him to be official before he was ready...and look how that ended! I begged and pleaded. I tried to understand. So, you want to hook up with other girls? No, I didn’t say that. So, you want to be exclusive? I didn’t say that either. Are you seeing anyone else? No, and I don’t want to. So, why aren’t we boyfriend/girlfriend? After Dana, I swore to myself I would never be pressured into being official ever again. I swore I’d never be in a situation where I was afraid of losing someone. And I plan to keep that promise to myself. So, you’re not afraid of losing me? Well...like I said...I made a promise that I would never be in a situation where I was afraid of losing someone. What if I find someone else? I would be very upset. So, do you still want me here?

Yes. I enjoy having you here very much. I don’t want you to leave. But if you left, I would understand.

OK. Well, I don’t want to leave. There’s so much good here.

Yes, there is. And I’m happy you’re here.

Crumbs like that were all I needed to sustain myself and keep going down this toxic path. I was Alice falling down the rabbit hole...just kept going farther and farther, deeper and deeper, things getting crazier and crazier until I no longer knew up from down, right from left.

I desperately yearned to go back to the very beginning. Back when I was perfect and he was devoted and I was shiny and new and he couldn’t get enough. I know how good it can be...how did we get here? What did I do wrong?! And how can I fix it??

The more I tried to recapture the magic of the beginning, the more things devolved.

One night, he told me the reason he chose me was because he could never "breed" with someone like me.

What did you just say?

Well, I mean...you have issues. Obviously, I have issues. I just would never want to have kids with someone like that. Don’t take it the wrong way or anything.

I was humiliated. Enraged. I remember storming out of his apartment and then realizing I had nowhere else to go. I mean, I still had an apartment...but I was terrified of the loneliness and agony I’d face being on my own. I needed him to make this better. I needed him to want me again, to tell me he didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be enough...how can I be enough?!

He followed me out. Apologized. Said I was wonderful, one in a million, the most special person he’s ever met. And just like that, I was back in the vortex.

I didn’t know it then, but this wasn’t love. It was my nervous system confusing intensity with intimacy. Confusing being needed with being valued.

I thought it was different with him, but it was the same sad pattern I’d been reliving since I started dating at age 17. The pattern of getting way too attached way too fast. Of completely losing myself in someone else. With the others, it ended abruptly. The fact that it wasn’t ending with Nick kept me emotionally tethered. Like maybe there really was something here. Maybe I just needed to ride it out a little longer.

The fascinating thing about toxic relationships is how you can still want to be there, no matter how awful it gets. And it was pretty awful most of the time. Nothing I did was ever right. If I tried to help, I was coddling and smothering him. If I backed off, I was abandoning him. If I got mad, I was being too dramatic. If he did something egregious and I didn’t get mad, I was being a pushover and he couldn’t respect me.

He never apologized. It was never his fault. Always mine. I misunderstood. I overreacted. In the rare instances he did apologize, it was only to regain control. There was never any accountability. His reasoning: "Well, you’re choosing to be here..."

And he was right. I was choosing this. So I needed to work harder, be better, finally make this man happy and get the happy ending I deserve! I truly believed I just needed to love him enough so that he could love himself and, in turn, be able to love me.

One night, he was really upset. He had gotten into a fight with his roommate. It turned out his roommate was talking to a girl Nick used to be interested in and wanted to hook up with. And I spent an hour consoling him about this. An hour consoling the man I’d spent every single day and night with for six months over the fact that his roommate might hook up with a girl that he someday might want to hook up with.

This one really broke something in me.

My diary entry after this incident is chaotic:

Why am I putting up with this? Why do I always put him first when he doesn’t appreciate anything? Why is it whenever I’m upset, I end up consoling him? It isn’t normal that I feel so upset every time I’m here!

When I’m upset, he doesn’t care—he only cares about his video games. When he’s upset, the world stops. I have papers due and exams to study for, but no, I’m dropping everything for him. Why do I do this??

I understand he’s depressed but does that mean he can’t ever be there for me? He thinks I’m trying to corner him into a relationship but I haven’t brought it up! He said it felt natural to be loving with Dana (his ex) but doesn’t with me...what am I doing wrong??

He decided to go on a Men’s Retreat weekend. His depression was just too much and he needed a reset, needed some time to get himself together.

Three days away from him felt like a lifetime. He’d basically become my whole world and without him I was just...empty.

On the day I knew he’d be coming back, I didn’t hear from him. Odd. Maybe there was a delay. I messaged his roommate to see if he was back. He was.

So, were you going to tell me you were home?

I’m so sorry, sweetpea. I’m home. Want to come over? The unease never left my body. My gut was screaming something was wrong, even as we lay in bed together. The next morning, I got ready for class. The feeling of dread had taken over every fiber of my being. Full-blown alarm flaring. Something was wrong and I needed to know what. I called him. Are we ok? Yes...we’re ok. It’s just... It’s just what? It’s just...I think we should see other people. I felt like my insides had been ripped straight out of me. Later that day he picked me up so I could collect my things—there was a lot since I basically lived there. We both cried. He told me he loved me for the very first time. And all things considered, it was a kind, respectful parting. We decided to go no contact for three months. Well, he decided and I went along with it against my will. The first few weeks were agony. I didn’t know how I’d ever make it without him. But I also felt...better. Regulated. Almost like me again. Yes, I was sad and devastated, but there was a huge feeling of relief. An unburdening. And of course, as soon as that happened, he swept back in. He wanted to see me. He was ready. It hasn’t been three months.

I don’t care. I need you. Now.

That night he looked at me with more passion and desire than he ever had. Maybe this time away made him realize what he was missing! We spent a weekend together and it felt like now, finally, would be our time.

But then he vanished for a full week. Then he came back. Depressed. Needed me. I put my foot down, said no. But he begged and I couldn’t resist.

Then he was gone, and then back. Then I found someone else and started dating someone emotionally healthy! Who knew I could even attract such a thing! And this sent him over the edge—he NEEDED me back. So I was at a fork in the road.

And I did not take the road less traveled.

I went back to the familiar, garbage, broken-down, run-down road and yes, it did make all the difference in the worst possible way.

We were back together and for a few weeks it was bliss. But soon after, we were right back where we were. The land of everything is my fault and I’m not good enough and I will work overtime to prove I am.

I was getting tired of it. But the hope...that hope kept me hanging on and it was just impossible to detach. Impossible to detach from the fantasy of what could be someday.

We were long-distance over the summer and my cell phone became another extension of my body—him always on the other line, needing me like an IV drip. It was exhausting.

One night, I called him, and he didn’t answer.

Hmm. That’s strange. He can’t function without me. He’ll call back, he always does.

I woke up at 3 a.m. and he hadn’t called back. And I burst into tears because I knew. He’s cheating on me right now. I can feel it.

The next day I shoved those suspicions aside, tried to pretend it was all normal. But I knew. And later that day, a post from a beautiful girl on his Myspace page confirmed it.

What were you doing last night?

You know...just hanging out.

Hanging out with who?

With some friends.

With a girl?

Yeah...

And you cheated on me.

Well...I mean...yeah...

And that was it. It was done. Of course, I would have taken him back if he tried. But he didn’t. He left me for her and acted like I never existed. I called and begged for an explanation. He replied with a cold, "What can I say? It is what it is."

He paraded this new relationship all over social media. Called her his girlfriend after a few weeks. They said I love you after a month. Met each other’s families and spent the holidays together after not even three months of dating. Posted endless photos of each other, endless declarations of their love. And even worse—he got a real job and snapped out of his depression! He was everything with her that I begged him to be with me.

Two questions haunted me relentlessly: How could he do this to me? And: Why her and not me?

The emotional weight of this was too much. I couldn’t process the avalanche of grief and emotion...so I did what any 21-year-old would. I drank too much, partied too much, and shoved the feelings away.

This relationship marked one of the darkest phases of my life. This one sticks with me. This one created a visceral reaction that I can feel even now, writing about it all these years later.

It was the death of my idealism. The death of my softness. The death of my innocence in many ways.

I thought love was supposed to heal...he said he loved me...and yet he broke me... and for a long time, I believed I would never be repaired.

The end of this relationship sent me down a dark, destructive path. The most painful part was that it confirmed my worst fears about myself: that I was broken and unworthy. Those feelings lived within me before him. And then, after him, they took over my sense of self completely.

He was gone and I was left a new version of myself, one I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t feel anything for any of the nice guys who were desperate to date me. I was the villain of their origin stories. I tried to like them...but I couldn’t. The only men who registered as safe and attractive to me were the chaotic, unavailable ones. They would rouse that feeling within—the familiar one of I must prove I’m worthy.

But the story isn’t over yet...

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Copyright © 2026 Sabrina Alexis Bendory.

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