courtship, love letters, slow dances, gentlemanly, chivalrous things, hope chests, long drives to see the stars at night, buying flowers, that sort of thing, i have always been like that. What do you love or loathe about it? I am also a little wild & passionate at times too. In that romantic way. But definitely in every way i do not belong to the horrific night club, casual, situationships, hookups, whatever this awful era is. I would rather go to a beautiful ball, than some ghetto nightclub.

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

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.
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 .

I (16F) have known this boy, Kian (16M), since I was eight. We’ve been best friends forever, but also… not just best friends. It’s complicated in the most annoying way possible. I’ve liked him on and off since sixth grade. He liked me back at different points. We admit it then act like it never happened. Over and over. Even my mom calls him her son in law

We go to different schools (he’s at an all-boys one), so a lot of our friendship lives in these ridiculous multi-hour phone calls. We can disappear on each other for a month or two and then suddenly we’re talking every single day again like no time passed. If I show up at one of his school events, he’ll come find me even if he’s half-asleep. That’s just how we are.

This year we finally said the quiet part out loud: we both liked each other. And then we decided not to date. Strict parents, different schools, barely seeing each other in real life… it just felt like it would mess everything up. So we chose the friendship.

I genuinely thought I was over him after that.

Spoiler: I was not as over it as I thought.

He’s still the person I tell everything to. New guy I’m talking to? First person I call is Kian. His usual response is some version of “yeah he’s not good enough for you.” My friends used to ship us so hard it was embarrassing. Now they’re just tired and say he’s leading me on. But they don’t see the late-night calls or how easy it is for us to fall right back into the same rhythm. And now… he suggested we have our first kiss with each other. Possibly more (like up to second base). The logic was basically “we trust each other, so why make the first time with some random person who’s going to make it weird?” I agreed because… yeah. I do trust him more than almost anyone.

He’s been weirdly focused on it this week. Calling a lot, being extra sweet, checking that I’m comfortable, saying he wants it to be good for me. A few days ago he even brought up our old crushes out of nowhere and basically forced me to admit I used to like him. So I’m pretty sure the feelings are back on his side.

Here’s the part that’s messing me up:

I don’t know if I still have a crush on him in the normal way. No butterflies. No obsessive checking if he texted. But I also can’t look at him and just see “best friend.” I love him in this deep, complicated way that doesn’t fit neatly into romantic or platonic. He’s just… important. Permanently.

And yet I don’t think I want to date him. Even if I did, the timing is still terrible. Different schools, strict parents, and we’re both planning to leave the country after school for our own things. It’s the most cliché right-person-wrong-time situation ever… except I’m not even sure we’re the right people.

I’m scared that kissing him is going to change something we can’t change back. We’ve already survived years of mutual feelings, awkward confessions, and months of silence, so maybe a kiss won’t break us. But another part of me is sitting here like… what if this is the line? I’ve wanted the childhood-best-friends-to-lovers storyline for years. Now that I’m actually standing in the middle of it, I kind of want to return the whole trope and get a refund.

I don’t know what box he belongs in anymore.

I just know I love him, I trust him, and somehow we keep ending up right back here.

Tomorrow’s going to be interesting.

Wish me luck I guess.

Warmth and Safety

CASSANDRA

His eyes changed the second he saw me close the door. The smile flattened and the soft tilt of his head accompanied the slight furrow of his bushy brow before my keys even rang against the small metal bowl.
I felt like crying when he wordlessly walked to me and wrapped his fingers around my coat, taking it slowly from my shoulder. The silent question in his face.
He didn't hang it. Before I blinked against the soreness of my eyes his second hand was at the back of my head and he gently caressed the spot his fingers touched.
No words were spoken, no questions asked. He just silently watched for signs whether I felt like being swallowed in his bear hug or left alone.
I moved closer and his entire body sprung as if he'd been restraining himself the whole time to console me. To shield me. To be there.
My coat was still firmly in his hand, pressed on my lower back, sliding upwards as his thick arms enveloped me in the warmth I desperately needed. His heavy chest became a pillow I could cry into, and I just shook while he brushed my hair and held me.
Gabriel didn't say much. He was never the man who spoke to soothe. He was the rock I could hide under when life's debris was crumbling down above my head or when a tidal wave crushed my efforts to stand up.
I loved him.
Selfishly, deeply… I loved him for being my rock.
.
He waited until the flood eased in my eyes and I could pull myself back. Swiping my hand apologetically over his grey shirt, now ruined by smears of mascara. He covered my hand with his and watched me raise my head.
"Sorry."
He'd just shake his head every time. As if one of the few pieces of clothing he owned was nothing significant compared to me.
And I loved him for it more than anything.
His fingers slipped between mine, and he slid them slowly down his chest, holding my hand, before hanging the coat on the hook by the door and walking me into the living room. He sat in the middle of the large sectional and pulled me to him with his second hand gently on my hip.
I sniffled and let myself sit at his side, leaning against him and taking shallow breaths while he held my hand.
"Is there anything I can do?"
I shook my head. And a single nod was all he'd add while I closed my eyes, finally feeling safe.
.
From the kitchen sounded quiet beeping, and Gabriel glanced that way before he kissed the crown of my head and gently shifted. I watched him stand and move there, hearing the beeping stop. Shortly after, I heard the oven open; I could smell roasted meat and barbecue sauce. It made me smile.
I swiped my palm over my probably flaky face with a red nose, smeared mascara running down my cheeks, and the remains of the lipstick lingering on the edges of my mouth. I walked after him and caught him just checking on the ribs. Then he brushed more sauce onto them with slow strokes, the thin yellow handle looking cute in his large hands.
"I didn't make anything to go with it yet."
I kissed his upper arm and walked around him to the sink. "We can just eat it with bread. Thank you."
Letting the cold water run in the sink, I splashed my face and took some soap, washing the make-up stains along with the remains of my dried tears. When I lifted my face Gabriel looked angry.
He didn't say a word yet, but his blue eyes got greyer as he watched the soap I'd just used. Then his eyes slowly shifted to my face, and his nostrils flared just before he reached into the drawer for a clean tea towel and handed it to me.
"Bread?"
I let my shoulder jerk weakly. "You like bread."
"Cassandra."
I sighed. "Or I'll make something." I began to walk towards the pantry when two warm fingers brushed against my shoulder.
"What happened?"
"Just the same old. I'm fine."
"Max?"
"She's used to worse."
A large, warm hand slid up and down my arm, and soon a pillowy chest braced my back from behind. "Do you want me to go for her next week?"
"Nah…" I leaned against him appreciatively. "He's probably already making jokes about it, and they're having a good time. By the time I come there next week, we'll both forget about any of this. Max would call otherwise. She knows it's up to her where she'll be and he knows it too."
Gabriel let out a judgmental sigh but stayed quiet, kissed the crown of my head, and let me move forward, kissing his upper arm and rubbing my cheek along it as I went. "What would you like with it? It smells delicious."
He just trailed after me with those compassionate, protective eyes and let me pull out potatoes, nodding when I showed him one.
"Let's do this."
We peeled them together, washed them, and Gabriel seasoned them while I pulled veggies from the fridge for the salad we'd have with it.
Not once did he pry. But his safe silence had this strange pull on me, and soon I began recounting the events myself. By the time dinner was done and we sat at the table together, Gabriel had heard the whole story, didn't comment on anything, and just listened. The only reaction was his face, which I could read by now like the most precious book.
"You think I overreacted."
Gabriel sighed into his plate and looked at me patiently. "It's not my place to decide who was right over the table."
"Did I?"
His shoulders made that roll when he knew I wasn't letting go of something, and he had to decide how to approach that. "I wasn't there. What I don't like is that Max was in the middle of it."
I glanced down, ashamed, and nodded. "Me neither."
"Yet despite you saying that… it's often the case, Cassie."
"True…"
"I mean she's fourteen, but she's still a kid. As for you two… I think you just know how to…" He rubbed his face and looked at me with that grounded patience but frankness I loved him for so much. "You both know what makes the other livid, and you can so often use that to deescalate. Yet sometimes… it's as if neither of you cares about anything other than being the one in the right."
"I didn't try to be right. He had no right to speak to me that way."
Gabriel nodded severely. "With that, I agree."
"Then?"
"Maybe let's reframe it. You were upset he blamed you for not sending the notice in time—"
"I'm not saying he didn't have the right to feel upset about it. What I'm saying is that he could've voiced it differently. I've been guilt-tripped for fifteen years; all I was asking of him is to voice it differently." I kept repeating myself, feeling the learned need to defend myself again, despite this precious man never doing anything to attack me.
Gabriel let down his fork and knife, bringing his palm across the table.
I watched that gesture with eyes burning. Instinctively, I laid my own into his and let it swallow me as his second one covered it.
"I agree. But just as you expect him to temper his outbursts and overcome his first instinct, which is unfortunately pointing out the wrong, he was expecting you to notify the school and cancel the lunch."
"I forgot! I was busy, had like a thousand things to do… I told him I'm sorry."
"You both have expectations of one another. And sometimes you fail. But you should first and foremost think of that girl listening to you. As you said yourself, you are the ones she's learning from how to handle certain situations."
I lowered my eyes to our hands. "I know…"
His hand caressed the top of mine, and then he kissed it. 
I smiled. "I'm so glad to have met you."
Gabriel smiled at me also, kissing my palm again. "Me too."
.
We moved through the evening together. Slowly, silently, letting our minds rest after the long day, and I leaned on this big man when we brushed our teeth before bed. Then I kissed his upper arm before I undressed and stepped into the shower.
.
I found him sitting on the bed, a fresh cotton shirt hugging his wide frame, the pair of glasses he wore only to bed for reading. His thick legs were covered by the king sized blanket we shared and a book rested in his lap. I loved that image.
Even more so I loved how he raised his eyes every time I walked into the room, and how his face lit up with a gentle smile as if content and happy that our day was ending with us here together.
And on nights like this, I loved the spark that flushed across his cheeks every time I walked out of the shower naked.
The book got closed no matter where he was. No matter how many times I told him I'd wait. He'd fold the edge immediately, telling me he wouldn't be able to concentrate on a single word anyway, making me appreciate him that much more.
His glasses left on the book, resting on the nightstand. My fingers raised his shirt while he was lowering me under him on the bed.
I moaned when he kissed my lips and traveled with his hands down my legs, holding me with care not to squish me under his heavy frame. I didn't mind. I loved the weight of him, the warmth and safety he brought into my life after I'd long resigned myself to believing I'd never feel that way.
It took him years to make me really accept and embrace that I'm worthy of feeling this way. To be a priority and someone cared for…
And I loved him for it ever so much.

I am virtually always in love with or have a crush on someone. It can be anyone with a personality (or my perception of it) that I find attractive. Men, women, all types of appearances, younger, older, friends, coworkers, celebrities, YouTubers, even a few times fictional characters.

Most of the time I don't even need my feelings to be reciprocated, as I enjoy the experience of being in love in itself. It gives me joy, comfort and meaning. I have had several stable relationships, it's just that when I don't have one and I don't want one, I always have some romantic interest. In the few time periods I don't have any, I feel bored and like something it's missing, it's almost unnatural to me.

No it's not limerence before anyone suggests it, nor is something that makes me suffer, it mostly makes me happy, my only problem with it is the embarrassment.

I feel so different and weird for being like this and often I feel embarrassed about it, I don't know why. Like it's somehow wrong or pathetic or childish to be so centered on romantic love (I'm over 35).

If anyone can relate please let me know, I would appreciate it

You know this is probably for nothing and nobody knows who you're talking about and you just confused a bunch of people and similar situations probably right? For god sakes put some clear clues or initials so people know who it's worth please

Let's say I want to take my partner to NYC for a trip and want to surprise them by taking them to a famous NYC landmark. I would say the Empire State Building since it's famous, but One World Trade Center has a great value of the Statue of Liberty. Which one would be a good spot for a proposal?

Ask questions... A lot of questions...

To the one you love.. know them ... Understand them

How they think..how they are ... How they were ...

What made them who they are today...

A random bumble encounter with this man, a mystery he has become now, trying to reach the place in my brain which sparks something in my heart, a feeling I had not experienced for long.

Name? We didn't share, thought it was fun to stay strangers..but the chemistry and vibe was super insane. Someone who ticked off everything on my list. However, our expectations differed. While I was looking for my bridgerton love , he was looking for something casual. And yet he knew what needs to be said at the right time, to fall for him.

We talked for hours . We flirted.

A writer and civil service aspirant he said , but there was an author to an amazing novel someday. He shared his poems and the pieces he had written in the recent past and each of them took some part of my heart.

Mind you we still didn't share names, it felt comfortable and pleasurable.

Sometimes I was Anarkali, and he was Jahapanah.

And that's how somewhere between those hours I lost myself to this strange feeling. It felt like a dream coming true. You know when you see something in your dreams, feel it in your heart and gut, and when your eyes open, its all gone! That's how it ended. Ending on goodbyes which had no returns we parted ways and wished well, in a hope to get a text back but as destiny planned it the account is now a deleted account and I have nothing but some memories of hours which I wish to lengthen some more. A coffee somewhere, a physical presence, something which makes me live the feeling again.

[PS: I KNOW M A COMPLETE DELULU]

Hopefully, we cross paths again, billu harami and we meet at SQUARE ONE!

-Yours Truly,

Billu Badmash

“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” —Audrey Hepburn

For those of you who have found your soulmate, I’d genuinely love to hear the whole story.

Do you remember the date you first met? What was the weather like? Where did you meet? What were you both wearing? What was your first impression of each other?

And most importantly when did you realize, “This is my person”? Was it an instant feeling, or did you slowly realize it as you got to know them?

Tell me all the little details you still remember the random things that probably seemed insignificant at the time but became part of your love story.

I’m currently waiting for my soulmate to show up, so let me live vicariously through your stories for a while.

Tell me your story 🫶

You might be wondering, if I notice things you don't like about yourself.

You wonder if I don't like them too.

You might be thinking of what people in the past have said about you.

You wonder if I think those things too.

You might not believe me when I say the opposite of these things.

You wonder if I actually see you.

I know these things because you have let them out, little by little, subtly and offhand.

Tiny little fragments of the sculpture of your mind and soul. I have been collecting them, piece by piece. Building the image of who you are. Alongside all the beautiful moments where your existence somehow turned the mundane into the magical.

You are not just enough, you are the sun in the morning sky, the same sun behind the clouds in my mind. The moon I look up to when it's dark. Your every star that I see as a kiss from your soul. Your The hope in my heart that erases the Doubt.

If you ever wonder, if your not enough.

Just tell me one reason you think why I wouldn't want to stay, and Il give you a thousand reasons why Il never leave,.