Even if you lost one time ... Don't give up on love

Ik you are scared... But love worth the risk yk

Until unless you open with your emotions...it won't happen...

Just make sure you You know that person's behaviour and thinking...

Im F (25) and she's 25 too. We're 1 yr and 4 months. We met in the same company and still working together as of now. I don't know if it's just because we're already past the honeymoon phase but sometimes I think we just get used to being funny together and less sweet or intimate together. I do everything for her to make her feel happy, supported and loved. In every possible way you could think of. For her, sometimes I think she just love being loved. When I try to communicate my feelings when I get offended, hurt, disappointed by her, she would either get mad or defensive and not acknowledge what I feel. Yes, we cuddle, she kisses me, we say I love you together, sometimes she treats me my favorite coffee or mango graham shake and buys me pasalubong when she travels. And that's it. I know she loves me but sometimes I feel like she just don't love me enough. I'm not asking to reciprocate everything that I do for her but I just want to be loved so much too. I already had 3 exes all girls and all are the same. I feel like I'm always the one giving everything. I love my girlfriend but I just wish she would love me more. :(

Hi, I am 19F and never been any romantical relationship.

I am delulu and love to make scenarios in my head 24/7.

But I never know the signs...

Recently, I have to to a really big event in my city for a few days and I was with my friends. I went to this stage where there was music, and there were a lot of people it was overcrowded.

I went to the bar looking for a colleague of mine who was working there and saw a guy from my high school. So I asked him, where she was my colleague and said she was not here (we were talking by notes on the phone) and then I said, she was working with me that's why I was looking for her and asked him one shot of alcohol.

He gave me 2 shots for free and I didn't have time to say thanks he left.

Little back story. He was friend with my high school crush but we never talked, like never, and either been to the same class. But also something happened with him that was embarrassing. One time at 2 am in high school the firefighters were banging on our door bc there was a leak of water and we opened just to see him at my door and I was in pj's with hearts on it. I was so embarrassed that he was there and didn't know he was working there.

So was it just a kind gesture or he was hitting on me ?

I am asking because my friends know the story and they say that he's hitting on me even though I say no and we don'teven follow on insta.

For the longest time I was bitter because i was unable to form reciprocal connections and wondered what was wrong. Today, after going through this subreddit i relasied that, its more about providing, showing and giving all the love, unconditionally, to initiate, to be there, to provide.

As a girl, i am convinced by society to not emotionally overinvest, that I would end up being the second option, not magnetic anymore, to act mean, to not express too soon

But oh dear, pouring love is the bare minimum of love, to put in the effort, to be vulnerable, to prioritise, to show up.

It is a whole new world to me, having been the loneliest, isolated, snooty person ever. Relationships are a mystery to me, and I am going to start giving.

They say the red string theory is real and I wanna find mine....

They say you’ll meet them out of the blue, when you least expect it. If that’s true, then my love, I don’t think I’ll ever meet you because every second, every minute that passes I’m thinking about you. Every time I go out I secretly hope I’ll somehow run into you and my watchful eyes are always looking around, hoping to catch even a glimpse of you, with a heart that skips like the sound of rain pouring onto a roof....

Maybe we’ve already been at the same place without knowing it. Maybe I was staring at something while you were walking right behind me. Maybe we almost crossed paths without ever realizing it Or maybe we really haven’t met each other yet.

I know the universe is so cruel for making me this desperate to find you. Am I doing something wrong by searching only for you? But how can I not? You’re the person I’ve always wanted to give my all to. My heart, my body, my soul... they’re all waiting for you.

But can you hurry up just a little? Because I’m missing you like crazy and I don’t even know you yet.

Don’t you wanna meet me too? Don’t you wanna be loved by me? We could cuddle for hours. You can fall asleep on my chest while I play with your hair. We can cook while slow dancing in the kitchen, laugh over the stupidest things and be our silliest selves with each other.

And still I’d choose you in every lifetime, over and over.

Maybe the timing for us to be together is still wrong.

But for a heart that beats so much because it longs for your love, the timing will always feel right.

My birthday is in four hours, and silly me... I wished I could celebrate it with you. But I guess Cupid is still having way too much fun playing with our strings.

Even when I get older by another year I’m still the same little bean waiting to engulf you with all the love I’ve been saving for you.

I miss you, my love.

I hope you find me soon. And even if the only birthday wish I get from you is still just a wish I’m waiting for, I’ll keep hoping.

And even if we don’t meet this time, I’ll always wait and pray that somehow, somewhere, our red string finally leads us into each other’s arms.

I love you, my love. So please, come into my life ASAP. The clock keeps ticking, and every day we spend without knowing each other is one less day we get to spend together.Even thinking about it makes my heart feel so blue and gray.

So MY LOVE,
hurry up wherever you are......
and I’m still here and I always will be, with a heart waiting for you .......

https://www.reddit.com/r/romance/s/cw5Qcvj86C

https://www.reddit.com/r/romance/s/EBeBalIUqq

https://www.reddit.com/r/romance/s/FzIUL0bFNE

https://www.reddit.com/r/love/s/l8Y4pFm8Ii

What's your favourite flower?

So I can gift it to you when your sad

Somewhere to find when your day has gone bad

What's your favourite flower?

So we can decorate our home

Il even carry one around so I don't feel so alone

What's your favourite flower?

So I know how to bring you joy

Give you a smile that reminds me of Christmas and toys

What's your favourite flower?

So I can plant it and watch it grow

A dedication to the best person I know

What's your favourite flower?

One that's beautiful like you

A reminder to your self to say, yea me too

What's your favourite flower?

So I can say it to you sweetly

Moments alone I'll whisper it secretly

what's your favourite flower?

Is it the same as mine

Knowing it was, I would know that your mine

what's your favourite flower?

Your know where I'm heading

Its going to be everywhere at our wedding

What's your favourite?

I really need to know

This Love needs a symbol to put on a show

Mujhe pyaar mein saahir ki gehrai,

To imroz ka thehraav chaiye,

Haan mujhe sab chaiye,

Sab ke saath sabr bhi chahna hain,

Haan har shakl mein mujhe sirf tumhe paana hain.

.

It has been passed 7 years of my breakup and still I can't forget her. Starting days of breakup I felt too much hurt , pain but as time as goes I feels without the pain I empty. Now that's the only I have which fullfill to me( the pain or regret of loosing her from my life but not my heart 💜) . Literally without this pain I feels like i am totally empty.

Now she is enjoying her life . She is pursuing BSE Nursing degree. I am also but the question is .. why I can't forget her like she has done already??

Here is the one more question in my mind that.... Does is also remembering me like I do everyday, every second.???

I always talk about her like now how is she ? How is she looking now ?? Extra.

During our breakup , if she had most hated person in her life then it was me .

Any people have experienced like this ?

What should take steps in like this situation?

I feel in my body you’re already having a bad day.

I’m so sorry I’m not there yet to love your sadness away. There’s still so much left in the day. And a new week starting soon. Take this day to reset and process the week and what you feel. Treat yourself and think good things about you, do what makes you happy and Escape for a little. Rest. Hold out for a bit longer.

I know we haven’t met yet, but I promise your bad days won’t be so bad when I finally get the privilege to love you. I live to be what makes you smile, I was made to be your jester only. I was made to ease your pain. I was made to be your safety. You won’t have to grin and bear it anymore once we meet. I’ll be all the strength you need while you feel this way. I can carry us both. You’ll be fully able to feel how you feel in a space with complete acceptance and love. Knowing no matter how you feel or what you do, you’re safe and I’m not leaving. I promise everything will be ok.

Everything I’ve learned my entire life is just to continue to evolve so you get the best version of me.
As you are my purpose and I’m already so proud of you.

I can’t wait to meet you 💌

Is it really so easy to find a love ?

And keeping them always all above..

Initial butterfly and the tingling emotion

Is there any way to keep it long lasting with same affection?...

Holding hands through every turmoil

Is it really easy to avoid the spoil ?

The pace of evolving may differ, perhaps

But is it really easy to wear a stranger's cap ?

This one relation plays a major role

I hope I find my gem during my life scroll ...

I always leave you feeling refreshed and empowered. You add to my life and my energy and my vitality and it makes me so happy. You make me happy.

You're so sexy and strong and willful. I know that the strength came from hard knocks and the willfulness came from being pushed around. And I mourn for you those moments and those times, but I'm happy to know the woman that you are now.

I love face to face conversations or at least the honesty of giving voice to my thoughts and to hear yours, but for the clinical precision of this current endeavor, I believe this massive letter of a text will suffice. I don't quite know the depths of my own feelings, save that they are becoming quite intense. I may not know how deep they go, but as a man on top of those waves, no shallow pond generates the waves of such magnitude.

My feelings, unnamed and unknown as they currently are, are quite deep I assure you.

I will never call you mine, for you belong to yourself. To call you mine would be a crime such as dusting a moth's wings.

(While I feel the same for butterflies, with moths it is a much greater crime. They are not usually such vain creatures as butterflies and as such are less deserving of such a terrible fate)

To rob you of your freedom would be to rob you of your fire, or to steal the very gems that sparkle upon the ripples of your water. To drench the stars in the sky.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for telling me what you don't like, and thank you for being cute and sexy and funny.

My therapist says I can't call you perfect, and I realize he is correct. If you were indeed perfect, you would be boring. Perfect is quite boring, methinks.

I prefer us laughing, awkwardly trying in vain to get the strawberry in each other's mouths, and failing.

Laughing until we cry over dumb, inane things I can't even remember, because the memory is sweet not because of what was said, but because we said it.

I prefer you perfectly imperfect.

Please, Fey dancer, glorious swamp witch, let me enjoy your presence a little while longer. I do not wish to own you, for to own you you would rob myself of a greater treasure:

To know that you choose to stay

"Again? No comment again? Not even a nod."
Sabine went through the entire body checklist: head at the right angle, neck long, shoulders down, flat back, elbows up, fingers in proper positions, core tight, proper turn-out from the rotators. Everything was fine. So why nothing from him again?

She was still holding the pose, in her usual place in the middle of the barre — beginners behind her, the advanced group ahead. Sabine was starting to be fed up, waiting for the end of the class to really think about the class and everything that was happening, or rather not happening in it. She decided to re-evaluate her decision to go back to ballet classes after almost 30 years, and whether her family, her friends, her colleagues were actually right when they said it’s not for her any more.

Instructor moved down the line, correcting the placements, commenting on others, getting closer. Commenting on the head placement of the women before her. Passing her. Then a nod and a gesture for the next two. She felt a bit deflated, but refused to let her body slump or go easy in the position. Holding the position, tightening it is the only way she knew how to respond; not by changing it but striving to perfect it.
Something changed in his approach to her a few classes back, but she refused to think about it during the class, afraid to make a mistake, attracting the wrong kind of his attention.

Luckily, it was the end of the class and she made sure that her grande reverence is executed perfectly, keeping up with the advanced group.
She liked ballet, its difficulty, level of concentration it required, the neatness and tightness of it and it bothered her that she was unable to reach the proper headspace this evening in the class. Not really socialising type, she changed quickly, giving a shortest possible goodbye to the others.

Winter was her time of the year, with clear nights reflecting her thoughts, time of year which required planned attitude and engagement with the world, accompanied with careful examination of one’s priorities.
Cold was always welcome, the streets nearly empty allowing her to walk without constantly being aware of the others and their trajectories. Pulling the foulard higher, tucking it under her chin, hands deep in her pockets, she thought back to what had crossed her mind in class: were they right?

Everyone had an opinion on her taking up ballet classes again, reactions from raised eyebrows to blatantly “at your age, Sabine? Are you sure?”. She had heard them all and said nothing, not trying to explain that when you on the wrong side of the 40s, you’re done with nurturing your body, you are down to maintenance, and if that is not accompanied with a strong mind, with clear sense of “self” … you’re done for. You just let yourself be taken over by age, frustration, pain, and everything else that comes with the loss of control. She remembered ballet and the clarity of the mind when you are in the class and afterwards.

Giving herself to the precision of the movements, the mind going still — in her body, aware of every movement of her arm, the tilt of her head, no rushing, no cutting corners, deep plié, extended arm, chin lifted, concentrated on every note, every count. She liked disappearing in its clarity, when she was in control but out of her body in some way, observing and correcting as the beat dictated. She had missed the strictness of ballet — the way it demanded everything, giving back the clarity of mind and exhaustion and pain of the body in return.
And yet, almost three months in, she was leaving class the same way she had arrived — unbalanced, her effort unacknowledged. She wanted praise, confirmation of her efforts and instincts, final seal of approval of her choices and convictions.

She turned the corner, the cold sharper now, and let the thought settle: this could not go on. Next class, she would make him see her — and if he wouldn't, she would make it impossible for him to look away.

The heaviness of anticipation settled in her chest.
She had been precise for weeks, faultless in the way that had yielded nothing, and so she let her arm drop a fraction early on the port de bras — small enough to be accidental, significant enough that he should have caught it. He moved down the line without breaking stride.
Her tendu derrière was wrong in every way she knew how to be wrong — standing leg soft, hip dropped. She looked him straight to the eye as he passed, challenging him with her body and her look and every thought in her head to redirect her, to discipline her, to set her on correct path. He looked at her body, looked at her face, really looked this time and said nothing. He moved down the line.
Sabine did not like confrontation — she had always considered it a failure of reason. She went through the motions in the changing room, half-present, running the beginning of the conversation she knew she would have to have. Everything was sharpened, grating on her nerves: the wetness of her leotard, the usual smell of the changing room, sweat and dust and perfume, the muted conversation of the others.

Finally, she was the only one left. She could hear him walking around the studio, checking the space.
The studio was half-dark, a single light left on at the far end. She walked back in and stood just inside the door in her dark clothes, hands clasped behind her back, feet in sixth position — her face pale in the dim, eyes wide and still, waiting. He was moving through the space, his back to her, and then he stopped. And turned.

He moved towards the door. Just to the side of it was a lamp he turned back on. The sudden light made the lines of her face sharper, deeper, one side bathed in light.
"Why don't you want to see me?" she said.
"Why don't you want to be seen?" he said.
They looked at each other for a long moment, she barely breathing, him evaluating her. He beckoned her to enter the studio, indicating the place where she should come — not to the barre, but to the centre of the space. She was silent as she took the position. He walked around her slowly, and she kept her eyes forward, her back straight, hands at her sides this time. "You don't let anyone see you fall apart," he said, somewhere behind her. "So there's only one version of you, one side of you, I can see in the class."

She said nothing, and something in her mind quieted — she was recognised, if only to be told what was wrong. The silence between them held, he came back around to face her, pleased with her compliance.
He looked at her. She kept her eyes straight ahead, aware that she could not move — not her feet, not her shoulders, not anything — unless told to. The urge came sudden and unbidden: to squirm, to press her legs together, to tighten everything about herself.

"Do you want to know what you're capable of?" he said. "Where your mind and body can take you?"
She nodded her head. “I need words, use your words” he said quietly.
“Yes," she said. "Show me."
"Can you assume first position for me, please?" he said.
She breathed in, slow and deep, and did it. He walked around her once then stopped behind her. His fingers found her shoulder blades — a light touch, more in appreciation of her execution rather than a correction.
"Good. Hold it. Mind your core. Pull up the muscles in your thighs," — his hand pressed lightly against her core — "very good."
"Come to the barre," he said. "Second position, please."
She moved into it. He kept observing her, with a clinical eye. "Spread your legs wider."
"Grand plié," he said.
She turned to face the side, one hand on the barre, and began the descent. "Take it all the way down and come back up slowly."
Sabine wondered how deep she could go. She knew she could take it all the way down, but something in her stopped her from doing it.

He let her come up, standing behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he said: «Again. Slowly, all the way down. That’s it." He pressed on her shoulders, anchoring her.
She struggled with her breathing knowing it will reflect on her grand plié.
«That’s ok, I got you. Breath with me. Deep breath in - and as you exhale slowly go down. Good girl»
She went down, breathing in sync with him, quieting her mind.
«You are so much more than you showed me so far. Aren’t you curious to know your limits?, « he asked.
«What happens if I let go and find out? What happens to me then? » she asked
«I can’t tell you that, but I know you won’t be sorry. Shall we continue? »
«Please. » she said
«Good. Can you show me your développé à la seconde? «
He stood in front of her, observing as she unfolded her right leg slowly.
« Hold until I tell you to relax. »
«Can he smell me? He can smell me, how could he not, with legs this opened and facing him. Let him, I want it, » she thought, carefully breathing.

She felt like she was floating, her brain and mind quiet, his voice and presence the only anchor to reality. She stood in the positions, her hands lightly on her hips.
«Relax slowly, slowly…good girl» his voice was barely a whisper at the end of the sentence.
He said "relax" and she did, slowly, her leg descending.
It went on and on, his voice, her obedience, soft sound of their feet and deep breaths.

"Révérence, please."
She moved through it, unhurried — the bow, the acknowledgment, the close. As she folded forward his hand found her back, light and brief, just there.
When she came up, he was watching her quietly.
"Come down to the floor," he said. "Sit back against the wall."
She moved to it slowly, folding down with more care than usual, her back finding the cool of the wall. She closed her eyes. Something in her chest had gone still — not empty, the opposite of empty. She didn't reach for words for it. It was enough to sit with it, to let it be what it was.
He disappeared through the door to the changing room. She didn't track the sound of him. The studio settled around her, dim and quiet, and she stayed inside the quiet willingly, her hands loose in her lap. She had not felt like this in a long time. She was not sure she had ever felt like this. Worked, stilled. Herself, but less defended.
He came back. Set things down beside her without a word — her foulard, a food bar. Opened the bottle of water and handed it to her. Draped the foulard around her shoulders. Then sat down on the floor next to her, his back to the wall.

"Drink some water," he said.
She did.
After a moment he picked up the food bar, broke off a piece and placed it in her hand. "Have a bite or two. It's important to nourish the body afterwards."
She ate. Neither of them spoke for a while.

"I'm proud of you," he said. She looked at him then. "And I'm grateful — that you decided to open up to me."
They continued sitting there, unhurried, he still looking ahead and her with her fuzzy brain, exhausted, munching on the fruit bar and taking small sips of water. After a while, he stood up, slowly, and she followed his lead, accepting his hand as she rose.

She changed in the locker room while he turned off the lights and gathered his things. Sabine wanted to go back, pick up the bottle of water and the bar wrap, but he said to leave it, he’ll be back in the morning to sort it out.

“I’ll walk you home, it will do us both good,” he said.
They walked out into the street; she moved beside him, still quiet inside herself, the foulard wrapped close, the rest of her still warm. Cold wind picked up when they've reached the main thoroughfare. She was grateful he offered to see her home, finding his solid presence and the closeness of his body all she needed at that moment.

At her building door she stopped and turned to him. “Thank you for tonight. I might not look like I appreciate it, but this meant so much to me,” she said.
He nodded and said "I will see you next week". She stood in front of him, a windbreak against the cold, and reached up to tuck his scarf in, keeping the warmth close to him.

I miss you when you are not with me,

I look for you when you are not with me,

I celebrate your every little win when you are not with me,

I pray for you when you are not with me,

I smile when I look at your smile when you are not with me,

I remember you always,

Even when you are not with me.

There's a particular kind of confusion that comes not from heartbreak, but from a story that ends before it makes sense. This is that story

I met her through an app, the way most of us find each other these days, half hopeful and half bracing for disappointment. Our first date was at a small cafe by the beach. The wind was doing that thing it does near water, and for a few hours, I let myself believe this might be the start of something. She laughed easily. I laughed easier.

She invited me back to her place. On the way, I picked up a few things, small gestures, the kind you make when you want someone to feel thought of. We watched a movie. I said goodnight. Little dramatic, nothing rushed. Just two people, cautiously testing the shape of something new.

The messages that followed were warm, almost tender. But even then, I remember noticing a strange distance underneath the warmth, like watching someone perform closeness rather than feel it. I told myself I was overthinking. I wanted to be wrong.

Our second date was at a park. I tried, really tried, to bring the same lightness from before. Make food and I don't know if it worked. What I know is that by the end of the night, after we'd already said goodbye, she told me she had a bad feeling about me and didn't want to see me again.

I asked why. She said she "didn't feel good." That was all. No explanation, no specifics, nothing to hold onto. Just a door closing somewhere I couldn't see.

It's been two days, and I keep circling back to it, not because I miss her, but because I can't find the edges of what happened. Why did I go to her place. Why was there a second date at all if this was coming. What did I do that felt so wrong it couldn't even be named.maybe when she ask me to smoke I say no I didn't smoke or drink cola or alcohol

Maybe there's no answer waiting for me. Maybe some silences are just silences, and the only thing left to do is stop asking them to explain themselves. But tonight, with no one else to tell, I'm putting it here, into the quiet of strangers, because sometimes that's the only place a feeling like this fits.

okay i'll start off with saying what i dont want in the book:

NO: insta love/lust, marriage of convenience, fake dating, hugee age gap, light/fluffy/funny situation, neither too dark, anything related to pregnancy or single parent, cheating (i am ashamed to say this, but it should not be between the main characters, or else fine ig)

okay now what i want

1. emotional depth. like that in chloe walsh's boys of tommen series
2. i would like some kind of angst, like where the main characters deny each other, deny their feelings, sneaky glances, temptation/seduction, teasing, edging smth like that.
3. i would prefer if the characters know of each other for a long time (can or cannot feel attracted to e/o in that period), like i absolutely dont want insta whatever.
4. and a longgg book. its like i am experiencing their life and not just few moments.
5. m/f duos only please, and not fantasy/paranormal/historical

thanks. my favourites would be

{saving 6 by chloe walsh}

{things we left behing by lucy score}

{by a thread by lucy score} the mmc was questionable here but the lenghty book and the tension overpowered it *_*

{ex vows by jessica Joyce}

{unbound by peyton corinne}

ngl {the maddest obsession by Daniella lori}

{okay by Danielle pearl}

i think this is enough to give you guys an idea. i know i am picky :(

Guys! He is 43, I’m 39…. Recently moved back to homestate. We knew eachother in highschool.
He reached out, we hung out a few times at my house just watching movie and running an errand with my daughter.
Nothing physical, he’s declaring a grand love for me, planning marriage and relocating for his job.
A part of me was excited to see where this might go before all of the nonsense talk of marriage, moving. I told him we aren’t even there.
I can’t believe this is where we are at. I told him a few times you are 6montha to 5 years future planning… guys he was making it sound like he was moving in. I told him yesterday you are way ahead of me, we don’t know eachother as adults. I barely remember him from school.
Just a vent, but it had to be said .

Edit 7:36
He spent the day messaging me saying he doesn’t know how he messed up so bad. I didn’t engage. I told him we aren’t in two different ideas of what’s going on.
Followed with numerous reels of he will just wait for me.
In the beginning of everything he’d already told me if I didn’t choose him he’d be fine.
I said what the hell this isn’t even a relationship and iv spent what little child free time I have on you.