About relationships and breakups with an escort model

Well, he was much more likely to break up with me. Our relationship didn’t even last two years. With our intimacy, the deep conversations and the struggles weighed heavily on both of us. That was the most intense pain in my life so far. I start to work for this Escort Service. After a few months, as I began to feel better—the town I was living in and the new responsibilities I had there were helping me heal—I felt a strange sense of certainty that someday we would meet again.

And by meeting, I didn’t mean that we would meet on the street but that we would find each other randomly (or not unexpectedly).

Whether that meant we’d get together again, I couldn’t say. And that wasn’t important either. Was that ultimately nothing more than a well-camouflaged hold on, born of naïve hope? Perhaps. But I carry this strangely secure feeling with me to this day. It’s neither positive nor negative; it’s just there. I always liked someone. I’ve been a single escort girl for three years now. Which isn’t bad at all; I’m okay with it. That’s precisely why I’m starting to question it.

In my life, there was always a man I was thinking about. I was already in love in elementary school, sometimes with several boys. At 12, I found the most incredible boy indescribably cool – as did my best friends. I always liked someone: my dance partner, my dance partner’s friend, and the guy on the youth trip. At 17, I threw myself into a toxic on-off relationship from which I only got out three years later.

Between high school and university, I passed the time with non-binding dates, which were never entirely non-binding and without feelings. Then he came. And after him, a few more dates were non-binding for me. And now nothing and no one for a long time.

Where has the need gone?

I’m not used to this. No man bothers me just as little as the fact that I don’t even think about dates and potential partners. I don’t need a man beside me, on top, or below me. So, of course, I’m wondering why it is. Am I emotionally crippled, terrified of pain, and subconsciously don’t want to get involved with anyone? I now know how crazy much is going on in my subconscious. So in principle, it is not unlikely that fears are slumbering that I am unaware of. Which I would never say I have.

I’ve always liked to throw myself into emotional connections without fear of the consequences.

I love to love everything that goes with it. But could it be that the pain of the last breakup broke something inside me that hasn’t healed yet? And that this pain keeps me from doing anything new or even thinking about it? Another reason could be the certainty that I will meet him again. Does this feeling get in the way of meeting new men? Am I holding on to something unrealistic and, above all, bad for me instead of being as accessible and detached from it as I pretend to be?

Another reason could be the certainty that I will meet him again. Does this feeling get in the way of meeting new men? Or does it have something to do with something completely different, such as that I’ve been completely preoccupied with myself and my job for a long time? So that not even my thoughts, which usually revolve around every fly shit, have a place for the male sex?

It wouldn’t be surprising; after all, I’m 24/7 on a very intensive search for what fulfils me and what I want to earn my money with. Maybe my thoughts don’t make room for a man as a precaution because he wouldn’t have one in my life anyway.

Feel, not just think

So three years later, I’m sitting or lying there and dreaming about him. And I wonder if he’s the reason for all of this. And whether this feeling inside me prevents me from having a fulfilling relationship at some point. Or if it’s me. I wonder if he is the reason for all this. And whether this feeling inside me prevents me from having a fulfilling relationship at some point. Or if it’s me. I don’t know if I will ever find answers to these questions. But I know I have already taken a step by recognizing the situation and becoming aware of possible causes.

And if you’re feeling the same way in any way at the moment, maybe one of my thoughts will help you. And if you don’t, that’s okay too because then you’ll find your thoughts and feelings that will take you further. Something that has to do with so many feelings and emotions also needs to be felt, not just thought. And one more thing: Thinking about it usually only helps to a limited extent. Something that has to do with so many feelings and emotions also needs to be felt, not just thought. Try it! Consistently, I’ll handle it now. Who knows, maybe that’s the answer.

How Your Depression Takes Our Relationship Away – Love With A Suffering Man

When I met you online a few months ago, your profile on one of those countless dating apps looked refreshingly different. Very authentic and warm. We texted for a few days after our match, all very trivial and interchangeable, but you stuck with it, and so did I; for some reason, I couldn’t understand.

Our first date was harmonious; there were no expectations, pressure, or ghosts. They came later. There were no expectations, no pressure, and no ghosts. It only came later when you announced shortly before our third date that your health wasn’t quite up to par and that you might be a bit off track. My reaction was well thought out because I vacillated between panic and trust. I hit the mark with you by being calm and understanding, and that’s how we got closer and closer.

Caught up in the past

At some point, however, it was no longer hidden from me that you also had panic and trust problems. After your broken marriage, the end of the family idyll you lived in, you were worried that you would never be able to get involved with a partner again. We sat arm in arm in the snowfall, and you dreamed about your ex-wife, told me about your first weeks in love, and I swallowed – partly indignant, partly unsettled.

But your great strength is being able to deal with problems consciously. This is how weeks of openness and closeness began. We talked, laughed, and got to know each other – sometimes carelessly, sometimes with a bittersweet fear of rushing everything.

But your great strength is being able to deal with problems consciously. This is how weeks of openness and closeness began. When you asked me after a month and a half if we wanted to start a relationship, I said yes, and everything would have been like a fairytale coincidence if it weren’t for your demons and long shadows. At first, they rarely caught up with you.

Your fingertips would tingle, keeping you awake at night. Your back is so tense again that I can’t massage it. The song I sent you in the morning would have made you cry multiple times. Again and again, you looked back into your past, and at some point, every little thing became an occasion for complaining, doubting or testing our relationship. Can I be faithful? Would I be willing to love slower? Would it be okay to see each other less until you were better?

“Burnout”

After weeks in the best of moods, I found myself, your best spirits, suddenly in front of a man who gave me a cold, blank look to tell me he was on the verge of burnout. I asked if this man would consider therapy and got a defiant no. After weeks of high spirits in front of a man who told me he was on the verge of burnout, I found myself. My head turned, as did my stomach. Everything about you changed. Your always-sensitive nature turned into a rejection, which turned into a gallop of emotions within a day.

“You’re the woman of my dreams!” You breathed as much as, “I think your laugh is fake.” Your first “I love you” became you “Don’t want to see me so often anymore”. Happy news and passionate nights turned into dry one-liners and my silent suffering. I’ve read much about people with depression in the last few days and even more about their partners.

Now I understand, but I’m afraid you still don’t understand yourself. All my fuses are blowing as I try to survive the turmoil of distraction in everyday life, and I long to hold your head but need to leave you alone now. Our love doesn’t have a punchline at the moment. Neither does this text. It feels like a relationship, but it isn’t – if he doesn’t want anything “solid”.

Somehow I haven’t written anything in a very long time.

On the one hand, this may be because I’ve had the last two months off. You can only think about a few things if not much is going on.

On the other hand, this can also be because I usually write down things I want to process or have already processed. When something is closed for me, it makes things easier to look at and, seen from the outside; I can better rewrite a story or a specific cause. So either there hasn’t been anything to process lately (which is not the case), or I’m not ready to process it.

But this realization also shows me that I should finally force myself to tackle, process, and close this one story. I’m already at a loss for words; I don’t know how to tell and describe our level. And that’s precisely what makes me so exhausted and raises many question marks. I met him in May. It was just a passing encounter; I only thought he reminded me of him. To whom? To a person who had often prompted me to process my feelings while writing (e.g. ” The fear of not being loved “).

In the meantime, however, the relationship with this person is relaxed and clear, and I get along very well with everything.

This is partly due to the person I met at the time. We developed a friendship and met regularly. I’m already at a loss for words; I don’t know how to tell and describe our story. And that’s precisely what makes me so exhausted and raises many question marks. A mini camping trip, holiday pictures and his toothbrush. Sounds ideal? But somehow, it never was.

It was relatively classic: The first kiss, the first night, the first Sunday together on the couch, getting to know each other’s friends, no longer using a dating app (on the other hand, I am not a supporter of seeing ” The next one, please: You won’t find prince charming on Tinder “), a mini camping trip, pictures from vacation and his toothbrush with him. Sounds ideal? But somehow, it never was. I always have the feeling that there are other girls with him.

He says he doesn’t want a relationship. Many things that we experienced and did felt like a relationship. No ties with compromises, rules and arguments. An open admission that you somehow belong together. Certainty. I always have the feeling that there are other girls with him. The bad thing is that I know that our communication fails. We’re both stubborn and too proud to admit what we want. Up and down again and again.

Uncertainty. Fury. Despair. Luck. Repetition.

If it’s going well, I’m afraid of breaking it if I bring up the topic. And if things don’t go so well, you think you have no chance of success together. There is a saying. “They can’t live with each other, and they can’t live without each other.” I’ve thought about how appropriate this sentence is with others but never really understood it. Would some people say the same about us if they knew about us?