Real Love

As I write these lines, the birds are chirping outside, and I wish I had run out of material to continue my story. Because in my last text, posted on Horny Escorts about the coherent meaning of emotional freedom for me, I wanted to end with the relationship between me and M.
Only in a way. Because a few days ago, I was listening to a psychology podcast that said you shouldn’t throw away a friendship for a lousy piece of cake. After all, not the whole cake is affected.

As soon as I sent the message, I knew this was a bad idea.

I was thinking of M., and since I’m the type of girl who also likes to give second chances, I wrote to him at an impulsive moment. As soon as I sent the message, I knew this was a bad idea.

A new try?

Unexpectedly, I wasn’t hosted, and our conversation was “nice” but restrained. I wrote whether it wasn’t strange to write again after such a long time. M. replied that he didn’t notice any change.
That’s when I thought that he probably hadn’t thought about me since the beginning of our contact break. Completely different from me. We wrote a little more, and then a message popped in saying he was in the country.

I was immediately excited and, in a certain way, also stressed.

So I caught the contact moment when he was here in our hometown. I was immediately excited and, in a certain way, also stressed. Did that mean he might want to see me? From my point of view, a request for a meeting would certainly not come. That much was clear. Five hours later, I got an answer that was the last thing I wanted to hear.

Yes, he is here and spending a few days with his ex, J. visiting his parents. BAM. What the fuck? That has sat. Pretty much.

Yes, he is here and spending a few days with his ex, J. visiting his parents. BAM. What the fuck? That has sat. Pretty much.
Desire meets reality
Throughout the drama over the past few months, I’d always felt sad and often had chest pressure, but I’d never really been able to cry. Even more so now.

The news that he was spending lovely days with his ex J. was too much for me in my city. At first, I thought that we might be able to get closer again. But now I realised I wasn’t strong enough and was too sensitive. Most importantly, I was so emotionally involved that any message could hurt me, no matter how unintentional.

The idea and the anticipation of a discussion fizzled out like a mirage, and this loss was even worse than before.

The idea and the anticipation of a discussion evaporated like a mirage in front of my inner eye, and this loss was even worse than before. I cried almost continuously for about an hour.
That’s when I felt I wanted to meet someone who wanted to be with me. A person who loves me. A person I would belong to. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong person for this.

Not every relationship wants and can be saved.
My tears didn’t just flow that evening because of M. I’ve known this feeling of not being wanted since my school days. It was an intense pain that M. triggered with his thoughtless message, and I felt infinitely alone. The PMS did the rest. Who knows it?

I felt transported back to the last few months and knew: I won’t get through this again.

I cursed myself for my “great” idea of contacting them. I felt transported back to the last few months and knew: I won’t get through this again. I also felt how much I get emotionally entangled when I am in a relationship with M. This had to end.

This “relationship” would never satisfy me but was destructive. There was simply no space between M. and J. for another person. At the same time, I felt a deep desire to be happy. To spend beautiful moments with myself and people who like me.

I started with some self-care in the evenings: taking a hot shower, making tea, and watching the series. The next day I texted friends to set up a date.

However, the most important thing was that I had started cultivating an inner voice that spoke well to me.

But the most important thing was that I had started cultivating an inner voice that spoke well to me. Granted, I’m proud of it! The feelings of being small and unloved can very quickly send you into negative thought spirals and beliefs about yourself. For a very long time, I had always believed these thoughts, and I had been dependent on the favours of others – including M.

Now I thought about all the beautiful moments I had spent with great people lately. I remembered how good I felt when I stopped thinking about M and focused on my own life.

New Horizons

I fell into myself and kept telling myself that I was a lovely and beautiful young woman. And I believed it myself. It was infinitely good to experience that.
Meanwhile, the radio was playing “ABCEDFU” by Gayle, and the lyrics spoke to my soul:
“I was into you, but I’m over it now
And I was tryin’ to be nice
But nothing’s getting through, so let me spell it out
ABCDE, FU
And your mom and your sister and your job
And your broke-ass car and that shit you call art
Fuck you and your friends that I’ll never see again
Everybody but your dog, you can all fuck off.”

I checked the chat one last time that day, which was still waiting for an answer, and finally deleted it. I didn’t want to get stuck in this emotional chaos anymore.

I applied my mascara, smiled at myself in the mirror, slammed the front door behind me, and finally closed a chapter I’d left open for far too long.

I applied my mascara, smiled at myself in the mirror, slammed the front door behind me, and finally closed a chapter I’d left open for far too long. Since then, I haven’t missed anything; instead, many more new opportunities have opened that I’ve finally been able to seize. A slight pang in the heart may remain for a while, but the drama surrounding it is now history.

When Dating Experiences Leave Their Marks – Is Real Love a Vain Quest?

Dating has changed over the past few years. Or maybe people have changed and not dating themselves? I cannot answer this question unequivocally. What is clear, however, is that things are different today. Different than back then and by no means better.
Love in the shadow of the ego
The search for the real. For genuine affection, real interest, and a real connection—she seems doomed from the start these days. Love stands in the shadow of digitisation, fast pace, unmanageable choice, and endless possibilities. In the shadow of your ego.

Egoland, here we are. In dating today, the focus is no longer on the other person but oneself. Own needs. Your benefit. We feel better about ourselves through another person, regardless of their needs. And if he might feel like shit about it.

For example, you made it almost two weeks. You gave me the impression for about 14 days that you wanted to get to know me. I’ve piqued your genuine interest; it’s not about superficiality; it’s about depth. But then you showed up so quickly that I still wonder how you could endure the pounding pressure on your ears to this day.

But it’s not just you. Can I blame you at all?

Or do I have to complain to a society driven by the general pain of the world? With the inventor of social media, Tinder or even the smartphone? After all, every new thrill and ego stroke is just a click away. A single person no longer seems to be able to trigger the associated kick. No matter how hard he tries to do it. The filters are not enough in real life to achieve fire reactions.

Every new thrill, every new ego stroke is just a click away

I feel trapped in a vicious circle. My experiences over the past few years have left their mark on the amount of data on my smartphone and especially in my heart. So much so that I can only wave afar to the hope that future experiences will finally be different from past experiences. She nods and presses the corners of her mouth together.

No matter how beautiful the words, how much I like to feel the famous connection and how much I wish it were – it’s not real. Again not. It’s a short rush, the chase, a superficial streak. It is useless if the prey is killed and no longer wants to defend itself. She can no longer trigger the same ego boost she might have had a few weeks, days, or hours ago.

And already, the next object of desire is considered, regardless of whether the last prey is still lying on the floor, twitching slightly and disturbed.

Has the longing for deep bonds long since subsided?

And yet, in this context, the question is whether people today simply no longer long for deep, long-term, solid connections. After the real thing. Whether the attraction of the new and independence can be as strong as the feeling of being profoundly, genuinely and honestly connected to a person. The sad answer is: apparently yes.

I don’t know if these people never fall in love or ignore it when they do. Or if they, too, were overcome by their feelings, would they have the courage to get involved? To make yourself vulnerable. To open up and show that there may also be ugly things behind the happy selfies and perfectly staged Instagram photos. Because even these things cannot simply be blocked in genuine relationships.

The longing for deep connection is overshadowed by the fact that she always holds vulnerability on one hand and possible failure on the other.

The longing for deep connection is overshadowed by the fact that she always holds vulnerability on one hand and possible failure on the other. And loss has become a foreign concept for today’s generation. Only very few seem to have learned how to deal with and confront their vulnerabilities and weaknesses. They don’t even start since they are unprepared for the test; they don’t even start.

After all, the alternative is more straightforward: start a new game before it gets too tricky. Although only the simple levels are played through, there is no need to fear a boss.

Sometimes I wonder where I get the strength to set off again and again. Searching for the real seems so futile. The distrust that has grown from the numerous experiences of the past few years now weighs so heavily that I can hardly put one foot in front of the other. Sometimes I get sick while searching; sometimes, I almost laugh when I realise how much potential I’ve seen in people who, in the rearview mirror, look like caricatures of the people they want to be.

The distrust that has grown from the numerous experiences of the past few years is now so heavy that I can hardly put one foot in front of the other.

And if the real thing were to stand in front of me after all – would I still recognise it? Or wouldn’t my suspicions pile up high and low in front of him so I’d wave it off, tighten my lips, and move on? Would I, too, without realising it, just be looking for the next prey, the next kick, the next caricature of what could be?

I don’t know. Despite the endless range of available information and experience, I seem to know less than ever. Egoland probably has that: Too much of everything and far too little.