Wow, this one is definitely one to remember, because, as the name suggests, I had a massive crush on him.

It all started when I matched with him on Raya (yep, again, I know). We started chatting quite late one evening while he was at his brother’s bachelor party. He said he wanted to meet me the following Wednesday, and I teased him, saying, "Yeah, whatever, you’ll forget anyway because you’re drunk right now." But he surprised me by replying, “Give me your number, this way I won’t forget.” Okay, okay, I liked that.

The week went by, and honestly, I forgot about him until I got a text: “Wednesday, 8 p.m.,” followed by the name of a bar in London. So, I thought, alright, I’ll be there. The day before the rendezvous, I decided to double-check with him, and he confirmed. That meant I had to do my hair and look like a solid 16/10.

I decided to curl my hair, put on my favourite corset, a pair of leather trousers, and small heels, the perfect mix of chic and edgy. I stayed at work until about 7 p.m. before making my way to the bar. As I was walking down the street, I spotted him riding by on a Lime scooter. I pretended not to notice him, because let’s face it, that would’ve been so awkward!

I arrive at the location my maps app shows, but I have no idea where the bar is. Just then, he texts me saying he’s arrived. I quickly reply, telling him I’m lost, and he asks for my location. I send it over, and as I look up, I see him walking toward me. Wow—he’s absolutely stunning. Exactly my type on paper: dark curly hair, striking eyes, and a beautiful big nose, with a few freckles I hadn’t expected but absolutely loved.

We greet each other and head into the bar. We get seated right at the counter and both order cocktails, me going for my usual Cosmopolitan (no surprises there). As soon as we start chatting, I feel this instant connection, and we begin laughing like we’ve known each other for ages. He tells me about his business—though I won’t mention what type, as it’s quite niche and would give away who he is—and we swap stories about our worst dates and the wildest things we’ve ever done.

I remember the evening vividly, especially when he got up to go to the bathroom. He took off his jacket, revealing a white long t-shirt, and I could already tell he had a great body. When he came back, he caught me smiling and asked why. I just shrugged and said, "I don’t know." But I did know. I was incredibly attracted to him from the start.

When we started discussing the topic of relationship he told me that his longest relationship was 9 months, I was quite surprised and asked him how come? He then said that if he doesn't see himself marrying the person he is with he won't continue to engage in anything.

We dive into all sorts of topics, my tattoos, our families, our worst dates, work, and of course, zodiac signs. When he reveals he’s a Taurus, I can’t help but think, "Damn." I remember that we talked so much that we had to stop each other so we would have something to talk about on our second date.

The evening went really well, and on the way back to the station he asked me what type of music I liked and I said "country" so here he was singing in the street not caring about anything or anyone. I loved how confident he was.

He says goodbye, not making any move to kiss me, just telling me he had a lovely evening and that he'd love to see me again. As I step onto the escalator down to the station, I'm grinning like a child, sneaking a glance at him as he walks away. The moment I’m out of sight, I text my friends: “I just had the best date of my life.”

I text him as soon as I get home, "I've just got home. Thanks for the drinks – I had a great time." He replies the next morning, "Glad!! Me too :)" I remember this was on a Wednesday, and I don’t hear from him again until Friday evening, around 8pm. The moment his name pops up on my phone, I can’t help but smile, one of those cringy, giddy smiles. At the time, I was at a restaurant with my ex-boss and my team. My boss notices the notification and my reaction and says, "Oh yeah, I know this guy, he was on TV."

I’m intrigued, so I ask, "What do you know about him?" He pulls me aside and starts telling me some pretty awful things about him. Now, mind you, I hadn’t even replied to his message yet, and here I am listening to all this negativity. I won’t repeat what was said—1) because it was nasty, and 2) because, in the end, none of it turned out to be true. It was just a manipulation tactic.

I read his text, "Hey. Sorry, been a manic week since I saw you. Hope you're good, how's your weekend?" I replied with, "Hey 'The Crush,' I was starting to wonder haha!" I filled him in on my weekend plans, mentioning that I was currently in Soho for dinner. He asked if I was planning to go out afterward, and I casually replied that I didn’t think so. He hinted, saying he might be around later, so jokingly, I responded with, "Is that an invitation to see me?"

Cue the 35 minutes of anxious waiting. When he finally replied, he said, "If I’m out haha, but might take it easy since I’m up early." Ugh! My anxiety shot up, but I played it cool, letting him know to just keep me posted since, of course, I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. I mean, the guy is gorgeous, and our first date was incredible.

By this point, I’d had quite a bit of wine, feeling empowered (or perhaps tipsy-bold), when he messaged, "Let’s grab a quick drink." But then, not long after, he cancelled, saying he wouldn’t make it. Trying to keep things light, I referenced something we joked about on our first date. I sent, "If he wanted to, he would eh?", a call-back to the conversation we had about him not giving enough attention to his ex and why they broke up.

When he messaged, "Well you're welcome here, but I know you'd think I was a fuckboy if I said that," I had to laugh a little. I knew this was coming the minute he mentioned he couldn’t make it and had to wake up early. I played it cool and told him I'd think about it, but let’s be real, during our first date, I made it clear I was done with late-night visits to men's places. It’s such a quick way for them to stop taking you seriously, and I wasn't about to fall into that again.

We had actually discussed sex positivity a lot during our date, which was refreshing. I explained how it’s important to me, especially in the way women are still perceived if they openly enjoy sex. In 2024, you’d think we’d be past those biases, but we’re not quite there yet. I wanted him to know that my perspective on this wasn’t just about intimacy, it was about the bigger conversation surrounding how women are judged.

To summarise, the conversation circled around me asking him directly what his expectations were and if he only saw me as a one-night stand. I’m a straightforward person, and I told him I hoped he would be too. Without hesitation, he replied saying he was looking for something serious but was also open to casual things. I responded by making it clear that I was only interested in something serious and didn’t want to be taken for a fool anymore, which was why I felt the need to ask.

I texted him saying that going to his place at midnight wouldn’t send the right message, and that I felt I deserved to be brought out properly. He responded with, "I don't think the two are mutually exclusive." Curious, I asked him what he meant by that. He explained that whether he brought me out or not wouldn’t change how he saw me. I made it clear that I didn’t want him to view me as just a quick fling, to which he replied, "I don't."

I sent him one final message, saying that it felt like it would be too easy, and I didn’t want to ruin things by rushing into it. He responded by saying he respected that, which gave me a sense of relief. At least he understood where I was coming from.

Six full days. Not a single word from him. I’m sitting here thinking, "Okay, this guy either loved my attitude or hated it and has decided never to speak to me again." I start convincing myself that maybe it’s better to leave things as they are, but I just can’t get him out of my head. Like, come on, Juliet—seriously? You met him once and barely texted! But there’s something about his energy, that date we had, it's all stuck in my brain on replay. I can’t stop thinking about it. And to top it off, during these six days of silence, the universe decides to mock me. I start seeing his brand everywhere. My favourite coffee spot? Yeah, they now sell his products. It’s like a constant, reminder of him. What has this guy done to me?

And then, of course, the weak Juliet makes her appearance, and I text him at 2am. I don’t even remember what I said because I deleted it first thing in the morning when I woke up—probably something embarrassing, like me asking him to meet up, classic. He messages me later asking why I deleted it and what it was. Mate, don’t play with me—you definitely saw it ten hours ago when I sent it.

He asks what I’m doing tonight, and I tell him I’m heading to Mayfair with a group of friends. No reply. Now I’m starting to get frustrated. Then, at half-past midnight, he finally responds: "Sorry, missed this. I was out in Soho, are you still out?" I tell him we’re about to hit a club, and suggest he should join us. He says he doesn’t want a big night out.

"I was going to invite you for a drink," he says. I tell him it’s not going to be a big night out and he should just come for one drink. I also ask where he was planning to take me. His reply? "Soho, but actually just going to go home." Are you joking? Twice now, he’s done this to me.

So, I shoot back, "Well, this isn't working out, is it?" To which he replies, "Maybe it's just not meant to be haha. You can booty call me later again at 2am. Will leave my phone on loud." I knew he saw my earlier message! He then tells me, "Why don't you skip your drinks and come here?"

I reply, "What about you make the effort to come here first, then we’ll see?" He responds, "I can't tonight, sorry. You're welcome to stay here, though. Parking outside…" Classic Juliet-anxious-overthinking mode kicks in, and I text, "If I sleep with you, you're not going to message me again." He assures me that's not true.

We exchange a few more messages, and I say there's no point in me coming over if he’s tired. He insists he’s not, just doesn’t want to go out. I start playing with him a bit, saying that we both need to make sacrifices here. Let's be real—I knew I was going to end up at his place at that point. He offers to give me a massage and says, "You can stay as long as you want."

Feeling a bit "Carrie Bradshaw," I text, "I can’t believe you had all that time to text me and didn’t. Feels like you didn’t get lucky, and now you’re thinking I can be that person for you tonight."

He replies, "I was out for a drink with a friend, not trying to get laid." Okay, okay, man. I was just "joking," or maybe I wasn't? I remember being in the bathroom when I sent that, and when I walked back out to join my friends, Gyn (from Chapter 2) was there and gave me his whole speech. Yep, definitely ready to leave this place right now.

He sends me his address, and I tell my friends I'm leaving to go to his place. One of my friends says, "Yep, you should go if you want something not serious, because if you want something serious, this guy is never going to call you back." A part of me knows she’s right, but the temptation is too strong to resist.

I drive over to his place and ask him to wait outside so I can find it. When I pull up, I see him. "Are you over the limit?" he jokes. I respond, "Not at all, just had one glass of champagne." I’m wearing a beige fitted jacket dress with high-knee boots, and I can feel his eyes scanning me from head to toe.

He gives me a hug and says he’s happy to see me. Since he lives with other people, we have to be "quiet" when we get inside. Oh, here we go again—I'm probably going to his room right away. Classic move.

I remember him wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and I get drawn to the freckles on his nose once again. We step inside, and as expected, we head straight to his room. It’s quite small but super cosy - he has his own bathroom, and everything is well-kept and not messy at all. I notice a couple of art adorning the walls and the drawers, probably from a trip to Tokyo or something. And, of course, the "product" of his brand is everywhere, a constant reminder of his success.

I started to tell him what my boss had said about him, and he immediately got irritated because it was definitely not true. I reassured him that I had sensed it from the beginning and didn't want him to think otherwise. He was the first to say that my boss’s reaction wasn’t normal and suggested there was more to the story. I remember him sitting on the bed, holding my waist, and he complimented my outfit, saying it was beautiful, sexy, and classy. I appreciated that—thank you, my man, I do try my best!

Then he casually asked, “So, are you ready for your massage?” At that point, I thought he was just saying that to get me over. Since I was in a dress, I had to take it off completely to expose my back, and he instructed me to lie down. “The Crush” had lit a candle earlier, which turned out to be a massage candle, perfect for using the wax. I was pleasantly surprised. I remember him saying, “Oh, I don’t remember how to take the wax without burning myself,” and I joked back, “So you do this often, then?” We both shared a laugh.

He actually gave me a massage for a good ten minutes before things took an expected turn. When we kissed, it was phenomenal; I was thrilled to have found someone who actually knew how to kiss this time. He was incredibly nice, skilled, and definitely not selfish in his approach. I had a fantastic time, enjoying the intimacy and the feel of his body against mine. As expected, he had a very nice physique, and the slight trail of hair on his chest drove me wild. I quickly picked up on what he liked and how to help him reach the finish line, which is quite rare for a first encounter. Overall, I had such a wonderful experience, and afterward, we just lay next to each other, catching our breath. I remember him saying he couldn't sleep without music and asked if that was an issue for me. I said it wasn’t, and he put on some music to help us drift off while holding my hand.

But this is where the problems began, as I tend to be an emotional person, and I don’t take sex lightly. In the past, I’ve had experiences where it was a mutual understanding, but with him, I knew I was facing a challenge due to how mentally attracted I was to him. The way we laughed together and everything about him genuinely captivated me; I thought he had such a great personality, and his ambition was incredibly appealing.

The morning after, we woke up around 10 a.m., and he mentioned he was going to go for a run. If I thought he looked beautiful the day before, he was even more stunning upon waking. Mamamia, his gorgeous curly hair was tousled everywhere, and that chest—my gosh, I could never erase that image from my mind. As I was leaving, he told me twice how grateful he was that I came over and how much he enjoyed our time together. I said my goodbyes and headed home. Once I got back, I texted him to let him know I was safe and hoped he enjoyed his run, adding that it was nice to see him. He replied that he had a great time too, then brought up our conversation from the previous night regarding what my boss had said. He emphasised again that I should be cautious, pointing out that someone who create such elaborate lies is definitely a red flag. That’s when I started to realise something was off and that I needed to get out of there ASAP.

We continued our conversation throughout the day about the same topic, and guess what? After that, he didn’t text me again—classic! So, I decided to reach out on a Friday evening to see what he was up to. He replied that he was having a family dinner—Jewish, of course. Dumb Juliet. Then he mentioned he saw I started a blog and wrote some "interesting stuff." As a joke, I teased that when it was his turn, I'd have to call him something specific, but that would be way too obvious.

Fast forward a couple of days, and he casually replied to my story, asking, "When are we meeting again?" I shot back, "Well, you tell me; you’re the busy one," but he never responded. Seriously, can a guy take some initiative?

Weeks went by without any news from him, and I was genuinely upset because I really liked his vibe. Seeing his stories every day was a constant reminder of what a great person he is. Then, out of nowhere, he texted me one weekend, "Hey, what are you doing tonight?" I jumped out of bed immediately, texting everyone in disbelief that "the crush" had finally reached out to me. Just to be prepared, I did my hair, my makeup, and picked out a killer outfit—I was R-E-A-D-Y. But then, he never followed up. I texted him, saying he was driving me insane, and he responded with some excuse about watching the news or whatever and mentioned he was going out with friends in Soho. There I was, sitting on my bed all dolled up, waiting for a "just in case" that never happened. He didn’t even ask if I was free later or anything. Nothing.

Of course, I got hit with the "I told you so" from a few friends, but at that point, I couldn’t care less. Two bloody weeks went by, and I decided to take matters into my own hands—this would be my last attempt. If it didn’t work out, I was done wasting my energy. Our first date was a month ago, and it was clear the guy had just used me. I texted him, "Hey, are you free Tuesday evening?" My friends were with me, and I figured there were only two possible outcomes: either he says he isn’t available but offers another day, which would mean he’s interested in seeing me again, or he says he isn’t and doesn’t suggest another date, clearly indicating he’s not interested. Guess what? As if no one saw that coming, I got option two. How great! The guy was definitely not interested. I was so disappointed that I chose not to reply to his message. Seriously, I had so much hope for this one—he was a little older, seemed to have his life together, was incredibly good-looking, close to his family, funny, and just an all-around great person to be around. The only funny part from that day was that my Jewish friend was even more pissed off at him and decided to rename him "bad-bad-Jew" moving forward.

During that time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy was probably just busy with work and that it wasn’t anything personal. Yet, a part of me thought—if he was that busy, why was he even on a dating site? If you’re not ready to date people, whether casually or exclusively, then you shouldn’t waste people’s time for a quick hookup! If that was his intention from the beginning, I just wished he would’ve been honest with me because it would have changed my mindset and the way I let myself be vulnerable.

One day, after having a few drinks (again, I know—no judgment, I’m a single lady in desperate need of attention), I texted him, “Hey, are we going to meet again, or shall I forget about you?” Such a bad move. I had to archive him because I knew I would cringe at his message the next day. He never bothered to reply, and now here we are, six months later since I last spoke to him. He even stopped watching my stories (yep, there was a time I was checking).

Fast forward a couple of weeks ago; I have to say it’s not that I had forgotten about him, but let’s just say he wasn’t the one on my mind. Since we met, I had moved to Regent’s Park, and as an avid matcha drinker, I go to a coffee place about ten minutes from where I live every Saturday morning to pick up my favorite matcha. I knew he was local to the area, but I had been going at the same time for a while, and eventually, you just forget. There I was, in my bloody Stitch pyjamas, walking back to my car with my matcha while on the phone with my mom. I got into the car and hung up, then realized I had forgotten something in the boot. As I looked in my right mirror to make sure I didn’t hit anyone with my door, I saw him walking toward my car. SHIT! I looked like a bloody nightmare with makeup from the day before and those ridiculous Stitch pyjamas! I didn’t have time to think; my car is pretty recognizable, and if he looked inside, he would see me straight away, and there was NO WAY he could see me looking like this. I got out of the car and pretended to be on my phone, facing my car so my back was toward him, and hurried to the boot to grab what I needed. Then, I frantically jumped back into my seat, put my seatbelt on, and bolted out of there like a maniac.

This basically wraps up the story, but I should add that he replied to my story a couple of days ago, commenting on a picture where I happened to feature one of his products. It’s strange because he hadn’t been watching my stories for six months, and then suddenly, the only time his product appears, he just happens to be watching? What are the odds? I was itching to respond, but I refused to give him any form of interaction, even though I was biting my nails in anticipation. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction.

As I usually do at the end of a chapter, I like to leave a message, not necessarily a lesson but something I’ve learned along the way. One thing I’ve come to realise is that dating in London is pretty tough. As I mentioned in my preface, people don’t have time, have too many options, or are focused on their careers. I get the latter, but surely you would appreciate having someone nearby who supports and encourages you to do better? Surely, as a human, you need that person there when you come back from work? Surely you miss that feminine energy when you’re feeling low and need someone to cuddle? Or am I just crazy?

I had such a crush on "The Crush," which is why I gave him that name. His energy is something I have yet to find in anyone else. Although some other people have made a deeper impression on me (refer to Check-in 1), I was genuinely disappointed by how things ended.

Why do men ghost so often? Why aren’t they open with us women? Are they afraid? Afraid of rejection, so they’d rather be the ones to reject us first? Are they apprehensive about what might come from a connection? Are they hesitant to be honest about not wanting anything serious? Do they want us as girlfriends but without any exclusivity, only reaching out when it suits them? Are they intimidated by the possibility of things getting complicated?

I certainly don’t want someone in my life who isn’t certain, who doesn’t know what they want, or who won’t choose me above everything else. I definitely don’t want someone who shies away from the challenges that come with relationships. At the end of the day, relationships are complex. For them to work—whether romantic or otherwise—both parties need to put in the effort, make sacrifices, and truly try. How can you know if you don’t even attempt?

I've been in relationships that didn’t work out due to a lack of communication or because the person was too lazy to take a train to see me. Men used to go to war, and now they can’t even take a moment to reply? It feels like a joke.

I’m sure there’s someone out there willing to make those sacrifices and unafraid to try, regardless of their circumstances, where they live, or their past traumas.

Juliet.