But do not worry, life did not pause. A lot has happened, far more than I ever planned for, and there are many new chapters waiting to be told. And yes, I am still very much single, which means there have been plenty of encounters that were confusing, disappointing or simply absurd. In other words, more than enough material to return with.

I had already written a chapter about a man I met when I first moved to the UK and the whole story is completely absurd. Before I share it, I felt the need to return to one of our familiar check in moments. These chapters are my favourite because they capture exactly where my mind is at, while I am writing, rather than revisiting things through the softness or confusion of memory. And it seems many of you prefer them too, because they are the most honest part of this entire journey.

So where am I today, one might wonder. Life is full and loud and somehow moving in every direction at once. And yes, I have moved back to France. Do not worry, it has only been two months and I still have plenty of London tales to share before we step into the French ones. I am actually looking forward to comparing both worlds and finally discovering whether dating in Paris is truly worse than dating in London or if we are simply destined to chaos wherever we go.

There has been a lot of self reflection, as there always is with me. I am very good at putting my thoughts into words and I often give what I believe is genuinely good advice, both to others and to myself. The problem is that I rarely follow it. I have been thinking again, like I always do, and you will notice in the other chapters a familiar pattern. I move between feeling not enough and feeling far too much. Lately I have been trapped in the idea that I am simply too much for people. Too loud, too open, too vulnerable. And as usual I have pushed people away or frightened them without meaning to, because I cannot seem to offer myself the simple kindness of believing that some people might actually like me exactly as I am.

I truly believe the universe has not yet sent me a good partner because I still have not learned how to fully understand myself or be content with my own company. It has been two years now, yet I still meet people and treat them as if they were already meant to be mine. It is not only unhealthy, it is utterly exhausting. Exhausting because I give too much too soon and sink far too deeply into people who have not earned a place in my life. And sometimes I feel embarrassed. Not embarrassed about who I am or about how much care I can offer, but embarrassed by how quickly I fall into romantic feelings and how quickly I panic and ruin everything. I do not even know if they deserve my time or my presence, yet something in me wants to give everything and then destroy it before it has even begun.

I know, deep down, that this comes from a fear of being alone. I have been on my own for two years and I feel time moving quickly. I am twenty eight, living back at my mother’s house, and still without a husband. I can already hear what my friends would say. That a man does not define me. That I can be alone forever and still live a beautiful life. And I agree entirely. To be honest, I am tired of men. Most relationships I witness end in disappointment, betrayal or lies. So why do I still crave a relationship so desperately?

These are the questions I am trying to understand. And after thinking long and hard, I believe the answer is simple. It comes from my fear of abandonment and my fear of being alone, but also from something softer. I am a relationship person. I am the sun in my own life and I need to give warmth in order to feel alive. I already do it with my friends and my family. But is it selfish to want one single person who is mine, someone who can give me the same attention and love that I am so ready to return?

There is a lot of work ahead of me, that much is certain. Therapy is at the top of the list and I truly hope it will help me understand who I am, how I feel, and how to stop destroying things before they even have a chance to grow. My fear is something far more delicate. I worry that I will never again feel the kind of love I once felt for my ex. The kind of love that is so unmistakable that you just know. The love that settles into your bones, that follows you through the day, that fills your thoughts without even asking permission.

I have moved on from him. I am no longer in love with him, but I am frightened that the trust and depth I once offered might never come back. People say your first love is the one you will never experience again, that the next ones will be different but meaningful in their own ways. And I am trying to hold on to that. We were so young, yet strangely mature in the way we cared for each other. For years we were each other’s home. The ending was awful, and my heart felt shattered beyond repair, but the trust we built, the work we put in, the way we loved each other so fully, is something I am learning to accept I might not find again in the same shape.

Maybe that kind of love only happens once. Maybe the next one will not have the same fire or the same intensity. But perhaps it will bring something else, something steadier, something I will finally be ready to want.

Juliet

FRENCH :

Oh mes chères lectrices et mes chers lecteurs, je sais que j’ai disparu. La vie a été un tourbillon et, pour une fois, ce n’était pas à cause d’un homme. J’ai enfin réalisé l’un de mes rêves et j’ai ouvert ma propre entreprise. ETARA Collective existe désormais et j’y ai mis tellement de temps et d’énergie que l’écriture est passée un peu au second plan.

Mais rassurez vous, la vie ne s’est pas arrêtée. Il s’est passé énormément de choses, bien plus que prévu, et de nombreux chapitres attendent d’être racontés. Et oui, je suis toujours bel et bien célibataire, ce qui signifie qu’il y a eu un certain nombre de rencontres déroutantes, décevantes ou totalement absurdes. En d’autres termes, largement assez de matière pour revenir ici.

J’avais déjà écrit un chapitre au sujet d’un homme rencontré lorsque j’ai emménagé au Royaume Uni, et toute cette histoire est absolument folle. Avant de le publier, j’ai ressenti le besoin de revenir à l’un de nos fameux moments de mise au point. Ce sont mes chapitres préférés parce qu’ils capturent exactement l’endroit où en est mon esprit au moment où j’écris, plutôt que de revisiter des souvenirs adoucis ou brouillés par le temps. Et il semble que vous les aimiez aussi, car ce sont certainement les pages les plus honnêtes de cette aventure.

Alors où en suis je aujourd’hui, vous demandez peut être. La vie est pleine, bruyante, et avance dans toutes les directions à la fois. Et oui, je suis revenue vivre en France. Rassurez vous, cela ne fait que deux mois et j’ai encore une longue liste d’histoires londoniennes avant d’entrer dans celles de la France. Je suis même impatiente de comparer ces deux mondes et de découvrir enfin si sortir avec quelqu’un à Paris est vraiment pire qu’à Londres ou si nous sommes simplement voués au chaos où que nous allions.

Je me suis beaucoup remise en question, comme toujours. Je suis très douée pour mettre mes pensées en mots et je donne souvent ce que je crois être de très bons conseils, aux autres comme à moi même. Le problème, c’est que je les suis rarement. J’ai encore beaucoup réfléchi, comme d’habitude, et vous remarquerez dans les autres chapitres un schéma familier. Je passe d’un sentiment de ne jamais être assez à celui d’être beaucoup trop. Ces derniers temps, j’ai été coincée dans l’idée que j’étais simplement trop pour les autres. Trop bruyante, trop ouverte, trop vulnérable. Et comme souvent, j’ai repoussé des gens ou je les ai effrayés sans le vouloir, parce que je n’arrive pas à m’accorder la simple gentillesse de croire que certains pourraient réellement m’aimer telle que je suis.

Je suis convaincue que l’univers ne m’a pas encore envoyé le bon partenaire parce que je ne sais pas encore me comprendre pleinement ni être heureuse seule. Cela fait deux ans maintenant, et pourtant je rencontre des hommes que je traite immédiatement comme s’ils étaient déjà destinés à moi. Ce n’est pas seulement malsain, c’est épuisant. Épuisant parce que je donne trop vite et plonge bien trop profondément dans des personnes qui n’ont encore rien prouvé. Et parfois, j’en ai honte. Pas honte d’être moi, ni de tout ce que je peux offrir, mais honte de tomber amoureuse si vite, puis de paniquer et de tout saboter. Je ne sais même pas s’ils méritent mon temps ou ma présence, et pourtant quelque chose en moi veut tout donner puis tout détruire avant même que cela commence.

Je sais, au fond, que tout cela vient de la peur d’être seule. Je suis seule depuis deux ans et je sens le temps filer. J’ai vingt huit ans, je suis revenue vivre chez ma mère, et je n’ai toujours pas de mari. Je peux déjà entendre mes amies. Elles diraient qu’un homme ne me définit pas. Que je peux être seule et heureuse. Et je suis d’accord. Honnêtement, je suis fatiguée des hommes. La plupart des relations que j’observe autour de moi finissent dans la déception, le mensonge ou la trahison. Alors pourquoi ai je encore ce désir si profond d’être en couple ?

Ce sont ces questions que j’essaie de comprendre. Et après de longues réflexions, je crois que la réponse est simple. Cela vient de ma peur de l’abandon et de la solitude, mais aussi de quelque chose de plus doux. Je suis une femme de relation. Je suis le soleil dans ma propre vie, et j’ai besoin de donner de la chaleur pour me sentir vivante. Je le fais déjà avec mes amis et ma famille. Mais est ce égoïste de vouloir une seule personne qui serait à moi, quelqu’un capable de me donner la même attention et le même amour que je suis prête à offrir en retour ?

Il y a beaucoup de travail devant moi, c’est certain. La thérapie est en tête de liste et j’espère vraiment qu’elle m’aidera à comprendre qui je suis, ce que je ressens, et comment arrêter de détruire mes propres débuts avant même qu’ils aient une chance d’exister. Ce qui m’effraie le plus est beaucoup plus fragile. J’ai peur de ne jamais ressentir à nouveau le genre d’amour que j’ai connu avec mon ex. Ce genre d’amour qui est si évident que l’on sait, sans la moindre hésitation. Celui qui s’installe dans les os, qui vous suit tout au long de la journée, qui habite vos pensées sans prévenir.

Je suis passée à autre chose. Je ne suis plus amoureuse de lui, mais j’ai peur que la confiance et la profondeur que j’offrais autrefois ne reviennent jamais. On dit que le premier amour ne revient jamais, que les suivants seront différents mais tout aussi importants. Et j’essaie de m’y accrocher. Nous étions si jeunes, mais étrangement matures dans notre manière de prendre soin l’un de l’autre. Pendant des années, nous avons été la maison de l’autre. La fin a été terrible et mon cœur s’est brisé en mille morceaux, mais la confiance que nous avions construite, les efforts, la manière dont nous nous aimions si pleinement, tout cela est quelque chose que j’apprends à accepter. Je ne retrouverai peut être jamais cela de la même façon.

Peut être que ce genre d’amour n’arrive qu’une fois. Peut être que le prochain sera moins brûlant, moins intense. Mais il apportera peut être autre chose, quelque chose de plus calme, de plus stable, quelque chose que je serai enfin prête à accueillir.

Juliet

The idea that time somehow measures the validity of our feelings is a lie we’ve been sold.

You don’t need years to form connections with people. Sometimes it takes weeks, because what matters isn’t the calendar, it’s the intensity, the honesty and the hope you build around it. You let yourself feel something real.  That’s not foolish – that’s courageous.

When you open up, when you trust someone and when you see potential and act with vulnerability, this is the kind of emotional depth a lot of people are too scared to even attempt. And if anyone mishandled this, that’s their failure – not mine.

You are not dumb, what is dumb is thinking pain needs a timestamp to be legitimate. What I am feeling right now is grief, not just for the person but mostly for the version of the story I thought I was living.

It is okay to be disappointed, to feel betrayed, and it’s also okay to still want closure, even after a short time.

My standards aren’t based on how long someone’s been in my life, they are based on how I expect to be treated. And I have every right to expect honesty, respect, and emotional consistency from day one.

I am not weak for hurting, I am strong for letting myself care, even knowing the risk.

I will promise myself this : one day, the version of me who dared to love with her whole heart, who dared to care, will be the reason I attract someone who does the same, fully and without games.

Some people are just not worthy of what I have to offer. My goal moving forward is not to become more closed-off, but to be better at spotting the signs without silencing my intuition or softness. Asking myself the right questions will be key : “Did they show me actions that earned my trust early?” “Were there any red flags I can now see more clearly in hindsight?” “How can I balance openness with curiosity, without giving away too much, too soon?”.

This is growth, and this is the lesson I am taking from all the emotional turmoil I had to go through in my life. Not shutting myself down, not becoming colder, but learning how to protect my softness without putting up walls.

I am someone who is emotionally fluent, who sees vulnerability as a strength. People who rejects it or call it weakness are usually emotionally shut. And that sets the tone for an uneven emotional playing field.

When I show up fully, and someone operates with their emotional brakes on, afraid of their own depth, and probably afraid of mine, I end up carrying the weight of both people’s emotions, I start questioning my own natural instincts, and I feel punished for giving what they secretly wish they could give too, but won’t allow themselves. And that’s not romance, that is self-sabotage on their part.

I feel like my openness expose people emotional immaturity, and I take this as a win.

I am not looking for someone who hides, I am looking for someone who meets me there. I deserve someone who doesn’t flinch at feelings. Someone who sees my softness as gold, not something to be cautions around.

Juliet

So, I recently escaped to France for a few weeks, and it was exactly what I needed. Time with my best friends and family gave me a chance to breathe and reflect, and honestly, it made me realise something pretty profound: my friendships are more meaningful than any romantic relationship I could ever have. I know, that might sound a bit dramatic, especially since I was in a six-year relationship. But hear me out.

My real friends… they don't need me to be some perfect version of myself. I can just be with them, messy and flawed and everything in between. There's so much pressure on women, socially, to be that special person for a man (and, just to be clear, I'm only talking about heterosexual relationships here, because that's all I know). It's a pressure that's both mental and physical. So many times, I've felt like I had to look a certain way, act a certain way, just to be attractive to a guy. It's exhausting!

With my friends, it's the total opposite. I can be whoever I am, whenever I am, because they already know the real me. There's no judgement, just pure acceptance. And they're always there to pick me up when I lose my way, or when someone else tries to knock me down. They're my anchors.

Now, you might be thinking, "Okay, so she's moving away from dating... does she even have enough material for her blog in 2025?" Oh honey, trust me. I've got stories. Crazy ones. Even wilder than the ones I've already shared. I could keep this blog going for ages just on those alone! Plus, this whole "dating detox" has actually given me some perspective.

I even revisited some old flames, guys I was obsessed with back in the day. And you know what? Total disappointments. Every single one. It just confirmed what I already suspected: they weren't right for me. If they were, trust me, this story would have a very different ending. I needed to do one last "experiment" in 2024, just to see if I could pinpoint exactly what wasn't working. I wanted to figure out if there were any lessons I could learn, anything I could take away from the whole experience. And, let's be honest, a few more twists and turns make for some great blog content, right? Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do... for the science... or maybe just for the plot?

Before I dive into the "almost-didn't-make-the-blog" dating stories, I need to talk about something even more important: friendships. I realised I needed to ditch some toxic friendships and really focus on the real ones. Because this isn't just about romantic love, it's about all kinds of love, especially the love you get from your friends. And going forward, I really want to emphasise this: if you want to be the best version of yourself, the kind of person who attracts amazing people, you need a solid support system around you. Trust me, this is rule number one, the absolute key to finding the right partner. Because, believe it or not (and I've definitely learned this the hard way), it's when you're feeling your best, when your head is in a good place and you have strong, healthy friendships, that's when you attract people who want to be in your life for the long haul, not just for a quick fling (as disappointing as those moments can be...).

Okay, so, let's dive back into the dating chronicles. Remember in Chapter 3 (Check-in 1) when I mentioned those three guys? Well, one of them, the one I described as "having everything I could ask for," he's getting his own chapter, so stay tuned for that. But the other two... they're getting the brief treatment. One was the Israeli-French man (we'll call him "The Unreachable") and the other was the guy I was thinking about while I was in Mykonos (aka "The Houdini"). I decided to see both of them again, but honestly, their stories are more "footnote" than "feature film," so I'll just give you the highlights here. They definitely don't deserve their own chapters, but they're worth a mention, and giving them little nicknames will make it easier to keep track of them.

Alright, so let's talk about The Houdini and The Unreachable. Where do I even begin? These two… well, they definitely reinforced my decision to take a break from dating. It's like I needed one last dose of "nope, not doing this anymore" to really solidify it. Oh honey, these stories are something.

So, The Unreachable. Remember, back in Chapter 3, he basically vanished – no messages, poof, gone from social media. Then, while I was in Paris, he resurfaced! Out of the blue, he messaged me, wanting to meet up. I won't go into the reasons for his social media disappearance, as that's his story to tell, but we did have a great night. He took me to this amazing rooftop restaurant, and we even went out with friends to a rave (short version: fun times!). We met up two more times when I was back in Paris, and each time was a blast. We just clicked – same beliefs, same sense of humour, I could be myself around him, which was something I always valued. But then… reality hit. We talked on FaceTime and over the phone a few times, and I just had to stop it. I realised, "This is pointless. I'm not Jewish, and this is never going anywhere." And that was that.

Fast forward to December 2024. We message on Instagram, and I tell him I'm going to be in Paris for Christmas. Every single fibre of my being was screaming don't do it, but I needed that final confirmation, that definitive "okay, we're done now" moment. And, like a fool, I ended up at his flat in Paris. Pizza, the usual… and then I just left the next day. It was the weirdest time we'd spent together. The vibe was completely off, we weren't as close as we used to be. Was it because I'd been so honest with him about the whole religious difference thing in the past? Who knows. And the cherry on top? He didn’t even text me the next day. He knows I hate that. I find it disrespectful, especially after sharing a night with someone. Haven't heard from him since.

The Unreachable… well, he lived up to his name. He reappeared, we had some fun, I thought maybe, just maybe… and then, poof, gone again. It just reinforced what I already knew: sometimes, no matter how much you click with someone, some things just aren't meant to be. And sometimes, you have to be the one to walk away, even when it hurts. Looking back, I think I need to be more honest with myself too. He was always upfront about what he wanted – a good time, not a long-term commitment. He told me that from the beginning. But I think I chose to see past it, hoping things would change. Which, of course, they didn't. So, lesson learned (hopefully). On to the next one!

Ah, The Houdini. This one… this one I was obsessed with. From the moment I met him, something just… struck me. Was it his smile? (Seriously, the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.) Or was it just his aura? I don't know. But I was hooked. Obsessed. With him, with everything he represented… which, looking back, wasn't even that great.

Like I said in Chapter 3, I just couldn't stop thinking about him. Every time I had a few drinks, he was the one I'd message. Which, in hindsight, was probably the worst thing I could do. Maybe he just thought I wasn't serious? Ugh. I'm not going to go into detail about our encounters. Partly because I'm not sure I want him to recognise himself if he ever reads this, and partly because he was quite adamant about not being featured on my blog. But, well… here we are.

He was always so funny when we met up, and I genuinely thought we had amazing chemistry. But then he moved away, and I knew I needed to get him out of my head. But for some reason, I just… couldn't. We hadn't even met up that many times, but he was constantly on my mind. I remember all the texting before we met the first time; it was non-stop. Honestly? This is my biggest dating disappointment of 2024. I really felt like there was something there, that it could have been something real. But somewhere along the line, things just… fell apart. And it sent me spiralling. I started questioning everything. What did I do wrong? Who am I? Am I not good enough?

And that brings me back to what I was saying earlier about friends. This is why they're so important. They communicate honestly, they tell you the truth, but they also don't make you feel like this. For so long, I was beating myself up, thinking, "What's wrong with me? How can someone be so into you one minute and then just… gone the next?" Does that even make sense? Is that how people date now? Is this the 21st-century male rulebook or something? Because it's brutal.

Anyway, the last time I saw him was when he was briefly back in the UK, and I, being the hopeless romantic that I am, made it pretty clear I wanted to see him. I'm trying to be careful about what I share about him – I'm not giving any details about his work or anything like that, so he's pretty hard to recognise (except for that killer smile, of course). So, he came over to my place. Looking back, not the best idea. He was a bit drunk, for one thing. And also, it bothered me that he never took me out for a proper date – drinks, dinner, anything. It always felt a bit… off. Like he wasn't really putting in the effort. But, like an idiot, I chose to ignore it. So, he came over, and for the first few hours, we just chatted, caught up on life. I always had fun talking to him. But here's the thing: I'm always so self-conscious around him. He makes me nervous. I was literally shaking! I was thinking, "Juliet, get a grip! Don't let him see you like this!"

The evening, honestly, wasn't exactly the best I've ever had. And I'm going to be completely honest here – even if it's not a serious relationship, I need someone to kiss me like they mean it. And The Houdini? Didn't feel like he wanted to kiss me at all. Was he shy? I don't know. I won't go into too much detail, but let's just say the "pleasure" was very one-sided, and I was left feeling… well, not great. Which made me mad. How could I let myself be treated like that? Like I was just being used for a good time, and I was dumb enough to let it happen. When he left, I just felt… weird. Used, obviously. And then, to add insult to injury, he didn't even bother to text afterwards. It just gave me such a bad impression of him. I used to really like him, what he represented (or what I thought he represented). But now? I'm just disgusted by his behaviour. Honestly, he was a big part of the reason I decided to take a break from dating altogether.

These two guys… they definitely taught me a few things. About myself, about what I want, and about what I don’t want. The Houdini showed me that charm and a great smile aren’t everything. The Unreachable reminded me that some doors are best left closed. And both of them, in their own way, highlighted the incredible value of my friends, the ones who are always there, through thick and thin. Dating can be a rollercoaster, but my friendships are my anchors. And going forward, I’m prioritising those connections, both with myself and with my friends. Because that’s where the real love is.

Juliet.

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.

It’s July 2024, and my birthday is in two days (25th July). The last couple of weeks have been quite intense for me for a lot of different reasons. Even though there’s so much more to read until we reach the actual point of being in July 2024, I needed to put down on paper how I am feeling right now.

July has been intense for me for different reasons. Let’s start by saying that I took a month-long break from dating and talking to anyone new. The real reason behind it was that I met this guy. He won’t have his own chapter, so I’ll talk about him here.

I met him on Raya, and we started chatting consistently every day. He lives between Tel Aviv and Paris, so I should have known from the beginning that this wasn’t going to work out. Why? Two reasons: first, the distance, even though that doesn’t scare me, and second, because he is Jewish.

Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with this, except that I will always be the person he has a good time with but never the person he would even consider marrying. He was quite honest early on, telling me he would never marry a non-Jewish girl, but unfortunately, I thought I could move past this and “enjoy” his company. Boy, it’s like I forget how attached I get to people.

A part of me still wonders why he would use so much of his energy on someone he knows he won’t date for the long term or marry. Of course, if he was in London, I would understand that he wants to have a “good time,” but we were so far from each other that he wasn’t getting any of that anyway.

Things became quite intense quite rapidly. We would call each other on FaceTime often, talk for hours about our day and what was going on in our lives, send each other funny videos on Instagram, and just generally catch up with each other. I knew all this was wrong, and my friends told me so many times that nothing good would come out of this, but for some reason, I didn’t listen.

He was supposed to come and see me in London but ended up going to Corsica on holiday instead. Obviously, I was quite disappointed and let him know. What I always appreciated about him was how open he was to communication. He would never leave me on read, always getting back to me and explaining why he was upset or acting a certain way. 

He knew I was upset and texted me a couple of days later to say he didn't know if I still wanted to talk to him because he thought I was pissed off at him for not coming. I said I was more disappointed than anything, as I really wanted to see him, but it was okay. His birthday was not long after, and I wished him a happy birthday. He said he was very grateful that I thought of him. I was extremely happy that he was so receptive to my kindness.

I really enjoyed his company. He was not only gorgeous but also had a great mind. We laughed a lot together, and I genuinely appreciated our conversations. Then, the conversation kind of died down. He used to send me “good morning pretty” and “good night darling” texts, and comment on my Instagram posts, but that stopped happening. I’m not sure how it happened, to be honest.

One day, he deactivated Instagram. At first, I thought he had blocked me, but I asked a couple of people to check his profile, and he wasn’t live anymore. Since then, I haven't heard any news from him. It felt so weird—we used to talk daily, and then suddenly, bam, he was out of my life. I have no idea how he's doing or what he's up to.

I was really frustrated by this and decided to try to move on by dating other people. I know it's the worst thing to do. 

I ended up going on holiday to Mykonos. I didn't really feel like flirting with anyone while I was there, but there was one person I couldn’t stop thinking about—a fling I had back in February. And, of course, because I am so weak, I decided to text him while drunk. Terrible mistake. This person, who shall not be nicknamed or named, answered back, and we had a very brief talk, which I deeply regretted the day after, to the point where I deleted the messages.

When I came back from Mykonos, I started going on random dates and talking to a few people without really thinking about it. No one and nothing gave me any sort of spark. 

Now we are back in July—because, yeah, all of this happened in June, but I needed to give a bit of context. I met this incredible person who ticks all the boxes, and is nice to me and caring. I won't say more about this as there will be a chapter about it, most likely.

So here we are in July, and what I'm feeling right now is very strange—a mix of emotions between sadness and happiness. How can I explain this without sounding weird?

My life is everything I wanted a couple of months ago. I live alone in an incredible area in Regent’s Park. I have the most supportive and caring friends. I go out a lot and enjoy life to the fullest. My modelling career is going pretty well, and my job makes me so happy as I get to work and learn from some incredible individuals every day. But one thing is missing. I am a relationship person. I need to feel loved and cared for. I crave attention, but I also crave the sparks, the laughs, the chemistry, and the challenges of being with someone.

I crave the difficulty, the messiness, and the attention from someone that doesn’t want me. This is how I roll, unfortunately. 

When I have a crush on someone, I can't see past it. I become obsessed with this person, thinking about them daily, overanalyzing our interactions, and pondering what I should have said or done. It feels like the universe has a different plan for me, but can I manifest him into my life right now? Why does the universe put me on the path of people who do not want me? Why do I develop such crushes, attraction, and chemistry with people who end up hurting me? It's rare for me to have a big crush on someone, but lately, I can't get this man out of my head. Remember that fling in February? Yep, that's the one.

Everything I do around him results in me bringing myself down and not empowering my self-worth and female gaze. It's frustrating to wonder why someone acts a certain way. Why do we connect so well and have such great chemistry when we meet, but then nothing ever comes from him? Why do I feel like I'm being taken for an idiot, yet also think that this person is genuinely nice and caring somehow?

This confusion weighs heavily on me. I question my self-worth, replaying every moment (even if they were few) we shared, trying to decipher hidden meanings or signals. It's a cycle that keeps me bound to hope, but also to disappointment. I want to break free, to find someone who values and reciprocates my feelings, but the pull of this one-sided crush is strong. 

I know I deserve better. I deserve someone who sees my worth and cherishes it. Yet, here I am, stuck in this emotional limbo, trying to understand why I can't let go. The universe may have its reasons, and perhaps there is a lesson here that I haven't yet grasped. But for now, all I can do is navigate these feelings, hoping for clarity and the strength to move forward, to find the love and connection I truly deserve.

This one person has really stuck with me, even though we’ve only hung out a couple of times. We had a great time together at a party, and spent a lot of time laughing. It felt like there was a real spark, but I’m left wondering why it didn’t lead to more. His presence definitely made an impression on me, and I find myself thinking about those moments and what might have been. Our time together was fun and memorable, and it’s clear that he left a significant impression on me. Having a crush on someone when it is not reciprocated is not fun let me tell you lol. 

Navigating these emotions has been a tumultuous journey, but it's one that's taught me invaluable lessons about myself. I've learned that my worth isn't defined by someone else's inability to see it. I've discovered the importance of self-love and the power of patience—both with myself and with the process of finding someone who truly values me.

The experiences with Gyn and others have shown me what I truly want in a partner: honesty, respect, and mutual admiration. I know now that I won't settle for anything less. Despite the heartache and confusion, these interactions have ultimately made me stronger and more self-aware.

As I sit here, on the cusp of my birthday, I'm filled with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. I don't have all the answers, and that's okay. What's important is that I'm open to whatever the universe has in store for me next. Whether it brings new love, deeper friendships, or more time for self-discovery, I'm ready to embrace it.

For now, I'll continue to focus on my passions, cherish the supportive friends who uplift me, and trust that the right person will come along when the time is right. Until then, I'll keep learning, growing, and striving to become the best version of myself.

Here's to the journey ahead—unpredictable, challenging, and undoubtedly full of surprises. And as I turn another year older, I remain hopeful, resilient, and ready for whatever comes next.

Juliet

I am going to call this one “Gyn” as he was indeed a gynaecologist. I know.

After everything that happened with my ex and after I had given up on the idea of The One, I spent a couple of weeks reflecting on where I was in my life. 

Unfortunately I had learned something that my ex did and when I found out any last bit of feeling I had for him vanished. You know that feeling when your heart just breaks? I felt it—big time. I was so disappointed, disgusted, and angry..

It took me a while to recover from both the disappointment with The One and the news from my ex. I just needed some time alone—I was so disgusted by everything, life felt like it went from vibrant colours to dull grey. It was a strange feeling; I felt like I had lost all purpose and was stuck in a deep hole. I didn't want to let a man make me feel this way, but at the same time, I needed to allow myself to feel for a bit so I could come back even stronger. 

I just needed to put the last five years of my life into perspective—how happy we were together, how much we shared, and how deeply we cared for each other. I genuinely believed my ex and I were destined to get married; we talked about it so often. We were convinced we were meant to be. Or so we thought.

I never imagined he could hurt me this deeply, which is why it came as such a shock. A part of me wants to be extra cautious moving forward, as I never want to experience heartbreak like this again. He was the first person I ever said "I love you" to, and so far, he's been the only one.

This brings us to why the following events unfolded. I knew I needed to feel something—I needed to let loose, do some stupid and crazy things, and lose myself for a while. I needed to prove to myself that I could move on from that news and that I was stronger than I had let myself believe. 

My friend had organised a night out for a group of us. We were starting with drinks and then heading to a club afterward. It took me ages to choose my outfit because I was feeling so ugly that day, and on top of that, I felt like I looked really young. It's something I've struggled with forever—caring too much about what others think. I've always had this "issue" where I never looked my age, always appearing much younger. Sure, it might be a good thing in the future, but I often feel like people don't take me seriously or see me as a woman.

I decided to go with a blue corset paired with leather trousers, a silver chunky necklace, and some small heels. Nothing too fancy, but enough to make me feel good and comfortable, at least. When I arrived, I felt quite uneasy as I didn't know anyone, but my friend introduced me to a group of girls, and we started chatting. As I returned from the restroom, two men had just arrived and quickly struck up a conversation with me.

That's when I was introduced to Gyn. I was drawn to his presence and how effortlessly he engaged with me. He was very charismatic and looked sharp in a nice double-breasted suit.

That's when he launched into his speech: "I'm a doctor," or was it "surgeon"? I couldn't quite remember. So, naturally, I fired back with, "Heart?" "Bowels?" "Brain?" But to my surprise, he was actually a gynaecologist.

I couldn't contain my laughter. Seriously? A male gynaecologist? Out of all the specialties, why that one? I had so many questions, but at the same time, I wasn't sure I wanted the answers. "I probably know your body better than you do," he joked. Lol—yeah, right. I highly doubted it, but hey, maybe it was one of his go-to pick-up lines on the weekends.

At first, I wasn't remotely attracted to him sexually. For some reason, his whole speech just didn't sit right with me.

As the night went on, I learned more about him—he was Greek, 36 years old, and renting his own flat in Angel. I thought, "Wow, this guy's got it together, you know?" He was quite the gentleman, both in his way of speaking and acting. I decided to check with my friend, who knew him. "Is Gyn a good person?" I asked her. "Yeah, definitely. He's such a gentleman, and he takes his girlfriends on holiday all the time."

It wasn't that this information would sway my opinion one way or the other, but knowing that a guy would make an effort for a woman was attractive to me. Nowadays, with hookup culture, men seem to have stopped taking women out to restaurants or on proper dates. It's always "come to my house" or "let's have a drink." I'm sorry, but even if we're only meeting for sex, I at least deserve to be fed first. Or is that too much to ask? At the end of the day, I'm giving you the gift of my body, and most of the time, all of this is for sex without even an orgasm. So trust me—I deserve a proper date beforehand.

Although it was probably too soon to see if he would take me on a date, the four gin and lemonades in me were calling the shots as I found myself getting quite cosy with him in the club. I kept seeking him out, catching his eye, and we even danced together for a bit. Eventually, I needed a smoke break, so he gallantly accompanied me outside, holding my hand—a true gentleman move.

As I stood there smoking, he even draped his jacket over me to keep me warm. We locked eyes so closely, and I couldn't help but wonder, "Why isn't this guy making a move?" So, I mustered up the courage and asked him straight out, "Are you going to kiss me?" I remember he responded with a casual "I think so," before leaning in to kiss me.

We kissed for what felt like ages, but unfortunately, I couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't the best kisser at all. 

I told my friend straight away, and she said, “Don’t worry, you can teach that.” Can you, though?

After my cigarette, we headed back into the club. "Voyage, Voyage," the remix by Francis Mercier, was playing—I remember it like it was yesterday. I told my friend about the kiss and how charming I found him. At that point, I knew that if he asked me, I’d go back to his place without a second thought. And he did indeed ask me if I wanted to leave with him. 

We walked out of the club and headed to his car, which was parked a few minutes away. As usual, he held my hand, being his charming and caring self. A man shouted at us in the street, saying we looked good together, which made me smile. We got into his car shortly after and started making out. His hands were all over me, and mine were all over him. I was so attracted to him, all I wanted was to rip off his clothes.

On the way to his place, we had a quick chat about our previous relationships. I wanted to understand why he was single. He was a very good-looking man, charming, with a good job, and also funny. It didn’t make sense. He told me he broke up with his ex because she had to move back to South America. Fair enough, but they didn’t stay together that long compared to my last relationship. 

We arrived at his flat, a one-bedroom place near central London. Great location, but it was such a typical bachelor pad—nothing really matched, and it was pretty bland and empty. At least it wasn’t messy or dirty, which I appreciated. 

What we both wanted happened, and I have to say, he didn't disappoint. I had joked to myself when I first met him, thinking, "Wow, a gynaecologist, I gotta try a bit of that." Turns out, he really did know what he was doing. Although I wish he had spent more time focusing on my pleasure, I still had a great time. We quickly fell asleep since he had to work the next morning.

When his alarm rang at 8 am, I started to wake up, but he immediately reassured me that I could stay over and leave whenever I wanted. Such a nice move from him. I don’t usually stay over as I like to sleep in my own bed, but this just felt right. I slept a bit more and then decided to meet my friend, who lived just five minutes away, to tell her everything. I made his bed and made sure the place was okay before I left. 

I joined my friend for brunch and told her everything. He hadn’t texted me yet, and I didn’t know how to react. I hadn’t done something so impulsive in a while—going home with someone I hadn’t even been on a date with yet was so 2016 Juliet behaviour when I was 19, not 26!

As we were talking about him, he texted me, asking if I had a good rest and letting me know I could chill at his place until he got back in the afternoon. He also mentioned he had a great time last night, and I agreed.

Later that evening, he called me, asking about my day and how brunch with my friend went. He said he’d love to take me out for dinner next time. I was genuinely shocked because he was such a nice man and had everything I always admired in a man.

We decided to meet a couple of days later and ended up ordering sushi and sharing some wine at his flat. I drove there since I wanted to ensure I went home afterward—not because I didn’t enjoy his company, but because I genuinely preferred sleeping in my own bed. We had a good laugh and great sex, but when he asked me to stay, I declined. I was extremely tired, and unless I’m super comfortable with someone, I can never sleep properly in someone else’s bed.

For some reason, I started to get a bit of an ick. I really didn’t like the way he kissed me, and for me, that’s crucial. I love kissing, and it’s one of the main ways I connect with someone. 

I decided to talk about it with some of my friends and got mixed reviews. Some understood the ick and how they couldn't work past it; for others, it was just a minor detail, and as long as he was nice to me, I shouldn’t care that much. I agreed with both sides. I felt stupid for getting the ick just because of the way he kissed me, but it was so personal and important to me that I couldn’t just ignore it. Despite my reservations, I decided I still wanted to see him and try to move past it. We had such great times together, and I really enjoyed getting to know him and being around him. Maybe, with time, I’d be able to overlook this one thing. 

He invited me for dinner at this cute Italian restaurant near where he lived. I thought this was a very calculated move, but I went with it. I had parked my car near his house, thinking he was waiting for me there, but he was already at the restaurant. He called me while I was walking and apologised for not being more of a gentleman, explaining that he thought I had parked near the restaurant, not all the way by his house. Again, I thought “wow what a guy”. 

Gyn ordered some wine for us and was disappointed that I was driving, so we couldn’t order a full bottle. I think he realised then that I wasn’t going to stay over again. I ordered some cacio e pepe, my favourite Italian pasta dish. It was a 6/10, but Gyn and I had a great time as usual, laughing and getting to know each other better. We walked back to his place for a last drink, and I texted my friend to say we had just left the restaurant and that it was a great time. He kept complimenting my appearance, which was really nice to hear. We joked about our dating situations and laughed about how I would never find him on "Raya '' because he was too old for my age restrictions. Remember, he told me he was 36 years old. We spent the evening together and I left his place to go back to mine, as usual as a true gentleman he would walk me back to his car, open the door and kiss me goodbye. I could not fault him whatsoever. 

It's only a few days later that I find myself thinking about the situation, and when he texts me, I don't feel the same attraction I used to. I'm unsure if this is because of the ick or just a general feeling that's hard to describe. It frustrates me because he's extremely polite, a true gentleman, and hasn't done anything wrong (yet...).

The week passed with us chatting occasionally, mostly him sending cute videos of kittens and cats. I remember him mentioning he had a lot of love to give and wanted a pet but couldn't due to his busy work schedule. One day, as I was browsing on Raya, a guy caught my eye. I clicked on his profile and saw "one member in common" – it was Gyn. Curious about his profile, I clicked on it and immediately realised he had lied about his age. I was shocked; it wasn't a huge difference from what he told me, but the fact that he lied so blatantly left me feeling betrayed and furious. He had been so perfect and kind all this time, so how could he deceive me about something so insignificant? I texted him immediately, consumed with anger. 

“You lied to me about your age Gyn” he replied “Not sure why though, doesn’t make any difference! Tried to tell you but I guess it wasn’t the right time. So I’m sorry, also, I still want to see you”. What do you mean it doesn't make a difference? “It does make a difference because you lied to me” I replied. “It’s not about the age, I don’t care about that. It’s that you lied to my face and we’ve seen each other three times. Whatever - I’m very disappointed” He then proceeded to ask if we could chat in which I replied that I was not interested and I thought it was better if we leave it at that. He respected my decision and we did not talk again. 

I was absolutely furious and felt deeply betrayed by the situation. My friend knew his real age but hadn't realised he hadn't been truthful with me about it. It wasn't about the age itself, because that's just a number and I don't really care as long as we have great communication, laughter, good times, and above all, trust. But one thing I can't overlook is dishonesty, and this, combined with the ick I already had, was the final straw for me. 

A couple of weeks later, I was at a bar in Mayfair when my friend warned me that he would be there. At first, I didn't think much of it as I had cooled down since our last encounter. While sipping on my glass of bubbles, I noticed him entering the bar and felt a wave of unease. I didn't know how to act around him and became quite shy, but he came over and said hello.

He asked if we could chat, so we moved away from the group to have a conversation. He apologised again for lying about his age and questioned why it mattered so much since it was only a couple of years older. I reiterated to him that it wasn't about the age itself but the fact that he had lied to my face after we had discussed it several times. It bothered me because it made me feel like he lied just to get me into bed. I acknowledged that I didn't believe that was his intention, or perhaps I was being too naive, but the fact that he felt the need to lie about something as trivial as a few years difference didn't sit right with me. 

He told me he thought I looked particularly good that evening and expressed a wish to still meet up. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I responded with a non-committal "maybe." Shortly after, I left to meet someone else (who will be my chapter 3… stay tuned). The next day, he texted me saying it was nice to see me and that he'd like to hang out again sometime.

Uncertain of how to respond, especially since my feelings had shifted and I had developed a crush on someone else during our time apart, I sought advice from a close friend. She suggested being straightforward with him to avoid any lingering awkwardness. So, I texted him that I didn't feel a romantic connection and thought it best for us to remain friends. To my relief, he took it well, appreciating my honesty and understanding my reasons. 

This was the last time we texted, although I knew I would inevitably see him again given our mutual friends. A couple of weeks ago (from the time I'm writing this, so quite recently), we ended up hanging out with the same group of friends. Surprisingly, it was nice to see him without the previous awkwardness. We chatted and laughed together, and I realised I genuinely appreciate him as a friend—he's a genuinely nice person. 

Reflecting on everything, I have a lot of respect for him. He always had good manners and looked after me well. We can now laugh about our past interactions, and I'm grateful for the positive aspects of our time together. I think we were both in different stages of our lives; he seemed more inclined towards something long-term while I was still figuring out what I wanted. Gyn ended up being one of those rare people I dated who turned out to be a positive experience. I learned a lot from him—not just about how I deserve to be treated by a man, but also about myself in general. Every experience teaches us something valuable, and I'm grateful for the lessons learned from our time together.

Juliet.

The nickname for this one is going to be “the one” because he is the one who helped me move on from my breakup but also because I think in other circumstances and if the timing was different he would probably have been the one for me. 

Everything starts as one of my friends invites me over for a “raclette party”, at first I wasn’t going to show up as it was the same weekend as my ex's birthday. But considering I was now single and miserable I thought it would be a good idea to be social. 

Obviously I arrive late to the party (signature move) and my brother calls me as I arrive there. I’m in the living room, and there are about 15 people. “I’m so happy you’re going out” says my brother over the phone “is there anyone good looking?”. I scan the room, and that’s when I see him. Tall, slightly curly dark hair, and absolutely handsome. “Yeah, one of them is actually cute”. 

He’s not just cute, he’s my type on paper. 

The evening goes on, and we chat a bit. I learned that he works in fintech, and that he’s 28. 

It's about midnight, when I have to leave and was leaving at the same time as him. I don’t really remember how the conversation started but I learned that he is going to be in Birmingham the day after and I am also going there two days later. So I ask him what he is going there for, and he tells me that it’s for his work Christmas Party. 

AS IF, his staff party is happening in the same hotel I am staying at. 

My first thought was “this is too much of a coincidence” - and the wine in my metabolism got the best of me as I asked him if he wanted to go for a coffee “or something” while we were both there. I am just there looking at him while he wears his beanie hat which makes him look even more gorgeous. He agrees to meet in Birmingham “why not”. We said good-bye and he left. 

I am there walking to the station, with a grin on my face when I suddenly realise : shit, I haven’t got any of his details apart from his first name, and didn't even ask him for his number. 

I have got to ask my friend who invited me to the raclette party - “Hey, do you have The One number?” he answers “ahahahaha!”. Me trying to act all innocent even though I am already planning our wedding “It’s just because we realised that we are in the same hotel on Monday!! What do you think” then proceed to send another text “But he’s not bad looking so…”. We have a full conversation and he tells me how The One is a really great guy but that he just came out of a 7 years relationship which affected him a lot. Well - at least we have this in common I guess? 

It’s 1am, and I decide to text him after reading the text over and over again to make sure it is perfect. “Hey! Sorry I hope you don't mind me messaging you but it’s Juliet. I just thought I’d message you if you want to meet for a coffee or something in Birmingham, if you’re up for it?”. 

Now at this time I am not even tipsy anymore and my stomach is in my shoes. I have not done anything like that in years but also re-thought my message 3 thousand times. A coffee ? Juliet, seriously? At that point I don’t even know why I messaged him. I just recently broke up with my ex, this doesn’t make sense. 

Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun right ? But is this for me ? “Just having fun”. I had my time of “having fun” when I was 19. 

My brother reassures me “don’t think too much into it, you find him good looking, go for a drink and see the vibe. You’re not committing to anything”. 

Why am I already thinking ahead when I don’t even know the guy and we met once? I need to chill. 

He gets back to me about 30 min later “Hey, of course that sounds great. When are you getting there again?”

I am in Birmingham meeting some clients all day. “They have planned a bunch of activities for us, we are going ice-skating before the dinner”. Shit - there was my chance to meet him gone. 

I arrive at around 5pm to the hotel and do my check-in. Bingo - they have upgraded me to a Suite! A nice bottle of wine and some chocolates are waiting for me. After a busy day this is everything I need. I text him to tell him in case his dinner finishes early, I will be in the bar having dinner and a drink. 

I ordered my usual - a Cosmopolitan, in true Sex & The City vibe. The barman is giving me the eyes, but my eyes are on that door in case I see The One walking through. He texted me “I am not sure if I’ll make it, we're in the middle of “company awards”. So maybe see you back in London? Free Thursday?” 

Damn - I am so impatient and it’s only Monday today! I answer that yes I am free Thursday and decide to head back to my hotel room. 

I take a long steamy shower, watch some TV and instantly fall asleep. 

It’s 8am when I wake up, I take my phone to snooze my alarm when I see I have missed calls and text messages from him. 

He texted me all night and called me as he was drunk. Which made me happy somehow. 

“You had a good night I guess?” I say. Turns out it was his birthday and his colleagues bought him lots of drinks. But he hadn't mentioned it. Shame - I had a lovely suite just for me…

Thursday came and we decided to meet at Mercato in Elephant and Castle. 

I caught the tube, hopped on a bus, got a text saying he’d arrived, but couldn’t spot him. Realised I was at the wrong place. Shoot. Not the smoothest move. Tried to fix it by taking the bus to the right spot, but somehow ended up going the wrong way. Seriously, could I be any more clueless?

I finally arrive about 20 minutes late, and there he is, patiently waiting for me. Feeling a tad awkward, I can't help but notice how handsome he looks, his smile incredibly warm. Initially, it's all quite embarrassing. As we step into Mercato, I find it hard to speak. My body feels numb, and I'm at a loss for words.

We found a table and decided to get some mulled wine. Thankfully, the conversation started to pick up. He then asked about my breakup timeline, and to our surprise, we realised we ended things with our exes around the same time. Another coincidence? 

We both had a craving for pizza, which quickly became our signature dish whenever we were together. With laughter filling the air, I couldn't help but feel a strong attraction towards him. It took all my willpower not to jump on him right then and there.

 Enjoying cocktails, I had chosen a margarita, but I sensed I was reaching my limit, so I decided not to finish it to maintain the vibe of the date. As he escorted me back to the station, his touch left me feeling as rigid as stone. I was completely unsure of how to react or behave at that moment.

As we said goodbye to each other at the station, I sensed he wanted to kiss me, but I panicked and ended up giving him a quick peck on the cheek before bolting away. I mean, I literally ran off. I was absolutely mortified. Immediately after, I texted my friend, saying, "OMG, I think he was about to kiss me, and I totally freaked out!"

The day after, on Friday, my work evening out takes us to Kidzania adult night. We have a great time, drinking plenty, and even my boss treats us to tequila shots. Now, I'm only 5'3", so alcohol tends to hit me fast. Add to that my anxiety, and I start feeling overwhelmed, like a panic attack might be coming on. I excuse myself to the restroom and text The One, "I'm thinking of ditching my colleagues. Want to meet up?" He responds, asking if I'd like to head to his place.. 

After some deliberation, I decided to follow my gut instinct. I hop into a taxi and find myself in front of his house. He's waiting for me there, still looking incredibly handsome. As I enter, feeling a bit tipsy, I confess to him my state. He reveals he's also a bit tipsy from hanging out with his friends. Since The One shares his place with someone else, we head straight to his room. Without hesitation, he pulls me close, my coat still on. I slip it off, and we share our first kiss. It's electrifying – he's not just good-looking but also an amazing kisser. 

The night unfolds, and let's just say it's been a while since I've had such incredible sex. It was truly a night to remember. The next morning, as I head home, I can't help but wonder if this guy will ever text me back. Did he just get what he wanted? But to my surprise, I received a text from him saying he had a great night too. I'm honestly in need of a couple of days to recuperate from it.

This was before Christmas and he was going to go back to his family for the festive season, so we chatted by text message for a little while. But to be honest he isn’t much of a texter, so the messages were slow. I did not like this about him. 

The one doesn’t have social media either so it was hard for me to stalk. Something that struck me was that I found him on Facebook (a girl got to stalk you know) - and when I mentioned it to him, I couldn’t find him on Facebook anymore. “I honestly have nothing to hide,” he told me one night. 

I decided not to think too much about it. 

It was now Christmas time - and I flew back to France to spend it with my family while he also went to his family outside London. 

We chat everyday, but infrequently and we tease each other a little bit. One day I text him “I’m very attracted to you tbf, like there’s something about you. I just can’t explain what it is”  he took 3 bloody hours to reply, and I thought to myself “you’ve scared him off”. I was so ready to delete the message when he replied “Likewise! I'm really looking forward to seeing you again” butterflies. 

Between Christmas and New Year we both came back from our family house for a couple of days. 

As I was moving out of my current flat, and the new one was unfurnished, I needed to pick up a sofa from someone's house. I jokingly asked him if he could be my chauffeur if I rented a van, but to my surprise, he agreed to help. We rented the van and embarked on a journey all the way to West London, only to drive back to my new flat in East London. The total journey took about 4 hours, giving us plenty of time to chat and get to know each other better.

I don’t know what got to me - but I needed to ask. 

Navigating the dating scene after a six-year break left me feeling unsure about the "protocol" or "how to." "Can I ask you something?" I tentatively brought up. "What are you looking for?" It was only our third time meeting, so I could tell I caught him off guard. "Well, I've just come out of a long-term relationship, so I'm not really in a rush to jump into anything. I think I'd prefer to keep things casual," or something along those lines, is what I recall him saying. Boy, I really need to familiarise myself with the dating norms again.

I'm on the same page as him. Labels? Not really feeling them right now because I'm still figuring things out. And hey, I want to keep it real—I don't want to give him false hope if things change for me later. Just laying it out there from the start, you know?

The day after it’s time for him to leave for Cornwall, he and his friends (9 of them in total) had rented a house for NYE. I was also going to my friend's house in the Lake District for a more chilled new year. 

I remember thinking that he would not text me during that time. 

But he ended up talking to me, and sent me pictures, videos and descriptions of the house “there is a pool room, sauna” the only thing I can think of is that there are girls, alcohol and a pool. 

I got to keep it together and remind myself of the conversation we’ve had. I’m not wanting nor giving myself the permission to be jealous when we only met a couple of times - right ? 

The one texts me at half past midnight “A girl here is trying so hard to get with me it's awkward”. My heart drops - Jesus, Juliet get it together ! 

It's hard to say why he brought it up. He might be testing my reaction, or perhaps he's a bit tipsy and not fully aware of what he's saying. Then again, some guys just blurt things out without thinking twice. When I texted him asking if he's interested, and he said "not at all," it seemed pretty clear-cut. As for his comment about her looks, saying she's "conventionally good looking" could mean she fits society's standards of beauty, but it doesn't necessarily mean he's into her. It might just be that she's a friend to him. I definitely need to discuss this with my girlfriends in the group chat!  

It’s New Year’s Eve, and he sends me pictures and videos of his evening, looking incredibly dashing in a tuxedo. I can't help but grin from ear to ear. He also sends group pictures where all the ladies look absolutely stunning. Ever had that moment when you start comparing yourself to others? You thought you looked great, but suddenly you feel like garbage? All I could think about was how my body would never be like theirs and how I don't look nearly as mature or good as them. It's a terrible feeling—like crap, honestly.

It's New Year's Eve, and he sends me a "happy new year" message at midnight, but then I don't hear from him again until the next morning at 11 am. Suddenly, all I can think about is that he's probably off having sex with that girl. Why am I even thinking this way? The guy is most likely passed out drunk in a corner somewhere or just chatting nonsense with his friends, not even considering hooking up with someone. I'm usually not this paranoid, especially with someone I've just met, so I'm not sure what's going on here. 

That's it - I'm realising I'm getting attached way too quickly. It's a typical issue when you start dating shortly after a breakup. I need to set some boundaries for my own well-being. The One hasn't done anything wrong; it's just up to me to decide how deeply I let myself feel.

I've been holding back from initiating conversations with him, choosing to let him make the first move. And he does - for a couple of days, he sends me good morning and good night texts. We even discuss the idea of taking a sick day together just to relax with each other. Then he suggests I visit his place during the week. But now, I'm torn. Am I pushing too hard to get his attention, or is something inside me urging me to just take it easy? I've been making a real effort - like when he texted me at 5 pm, I waited until the next morning at 10 am to reply. I even went as far as not responding to see if he'd reach out again - and he did! It's frustrating how flawless he seems. Sometimes, I wish he'd show some red flags so I could stop getting so attached! 

During that week, we met at his place, opting for takeaway. I dressed in one of my best outfits, a cream co-ord, and he complimented me. It felt nice, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wished we could have a date somewhere other than his house. It seems like we only meet for sex, which is fine for Casual Juliet, right? But what does "casual" even mean? I spoke to my friends, and everyone had a different take. "A casual relationship for me is basically just sex and non-exclusivity," says one. "For me, it means having a relationship without the labels and commitments," says another. Why isn't there one clear definition? Six years ago, things seemed clearer. It was either sex without dating or dating with the potential for something more. "If you only see him in the evenings, it means one thing: he's only here for sex, Juliet," says my friend. Okay, got it. But why do we text so much then?

I brought along one of my favourite bottles of white wine, and he was appreciative of the gesture. I ended up staying the night, although in hindsight, it might not have been the wisest decision.

As usual, we had amazing sex – it's like our bodies just sync perfectly with each other. He cuddled me, his touch sending shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but revel in the sensation. Spending time with him feels incredible. It's easy to forget how comforting it is to have someone to sleep next to at night.

We continue talking every day for weeks, and he even asks me to send him a picture of myself in my dress at my work Christmas party. Admittedly, I may have drunk texted him a bit too often. I find myself going to his house frequently, but it's always for dinner and a "sleepover." He's incredibly supportive, especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed by work. We also discussed the possibility of going on a road trip to Wales together in the spring. When I decided to resign from my job because of my mental health he texted me “thinking of you” like who is that nice seriously? The only other person who treated me this way was my ex at the start of our relationship, and it was one of the reasons I fell in love with him. His kindness and constant care for me meant the world, and it's a quality that I find myself appreciating in The One as well.

As things started to feel a bit overwhelming, my gut began signalling that we needed to have a discussion. We decided to meet on a Saturday, and I took the initiative to plan the day. For once, we met at a more reasonable time. I picked him up from his house at 12 pm, and we went axe throwing, which turned out to be a fun and unique date idea. However, when he went to get us drinks, the lady supervising the game referred to him as my "partner." Partner? I was taken aback and felt incredibly shy. Should I correct her and say he's not my partner? But then again, she doesn't need to know our relationship status, and why am I getting so worked up about a simple question? I simply smiled and nodded, but deep down, I knew my reaction wasn't normal. I needed to chill out, I told myself.

After about an hour of axe throwing, he suggested we go to a small Italian place nearby. We enjoyed some pizza slices and had a pleasant chat. Then, we decided to take a stroll in Battersea Park. When he ordered hot chocolate with marshmallows, I couldn't help but melt a little. We walked and talked for about an hour, discussing life. However, our conversations always seemed to circle back to his ex, and I sensed that he needed to talk about it. Although he encouraged me to talk about my ex too, I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about the past. I didn't want to dwell on past relationships; I wanted to focus on moving forward.

Part of me couldn't shake the feeling that I might be a rebound for him, and I didn't want to feel like I was being "used" for this reason. However, I also realised that he was helping me move forward from my breakup. So, was he also my rebound? It was hard to tell at this point. After going to the cinema, we headed back to his place where he cooked me dinner.

I stayed over and as usual we had sex - but for the first time. I didn’t feel anything, no attraction to him, no feelings, nothing. I felt empty. It was like my gut was telling me something. 

It's astonishing how I went from feeling utterly captivated by him to suddenly feeling nothing, only to be overcome by a wave of sadness. I recall waking up before him, noticing that he wasn't holding me or even touching me. It was as if we had disconnected somehow. He lay there on his side of the bed, still looking as handsome as ever with his beautiful nose and eyes, while I lay on the other side, feeling distant. It felt odd and unsettling. 

I suddenly felt overwhelmed by a flood of emotions—loneliness, sadness, and confusion all at once. My heart and mind seemed to be at odds with each other, pulling me in different directions. I knew I had to take action. After taking some time to reflect, I came to a decision: I needed to protect my feelings. I couldn't help but wonder, was I starting to develop attachment towards him? Were feelings beginning to blossom? This was problematic. The timing couldn't have been worse; we both agreed to keep things casual, having recently come out of long-term relationships. Were we diving into closeness too quickly?

I took the day to think and decided to message him these exact words : “Something I wanted to share with you as I am a big believer in communication. I hope you don’t mind. 

After I left your house today I felt very very lonely and that was quite unsettling to be honest. I just had that feeling of being “used” which I’m sure it’s not what you intend to do at all. But I just thought It would be better for me to be honest with you. It kinda left me uncomfortable and I feel like I need some time to process my feelings and focus on my wellbeing. I’m just in a weird place in my life currently and I’m extremely fragile to the smallest of things and I need to protect myself.” 

We had a long conversation about us, which I've chosen to keep private as I believe he deserves his privacy too. However, what emerged from it was the realisation that we were both in different phases of our "casual dating" journey. For me, it was straightforward—I couldn't invest my trust and emotions in someone who was seeing other people. He was honest enough to admit that he was seeing another woman. He said, "I'm speaking to another person pretty infrequently," and reassured me, "I enjoyed our time together." Despite his respectful attitude in our messages and our ability to communicate effectively, I couldn't help but feel hurt and disappointed. It confirmed what my gut had been telling me all along. 

I'd be lying to myself if I pretended I was okay with him seeing other people. This conversation should have happened earlier, and now I find myself stuck in a whirlwind of emotions. I feared this would happen; evidently, I misunderstood the concept of casual dating. I always believed there were only two options: either we date with the hope of something more, or we engage in purely physical encounters without any emotional ties. However, no one is immune to developing feelings when two people enjoy each other's company and communicate daily. It just didn't make sense to me. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of him kissing with someone else after I had invested so much trust in him and shared so many moments together. 

We decided to leave it at that - and I decided to text him a couple of days later “Hey The One, I've been thinking about our time together, and I realise I didn't express enough gratitude for your kindness and help. I genuinely enjoyed getting to know you, and I hope our paths cross again. Wishing you lots of happiness in the future, and I must admit, I do miss our time together a little bit.”  I felt the need to end things on a positive note. We still shared mutual friends, and I couldn't bear the thought of leaving things unresolved. Some might call it needing closure. He expressed missing our time together too. For the next couple of months, we texted infrequently, maintaining a friendship and catching up on general things.

Fast forward a couple of months later, we were meeting our mutual friends to watch the F1, but we were first meeting a friend with a boat for a "cruise" from Little Venice to King’s Cross. Both of us ended up running late, so we had to catch up with the group at Camden Locks. He texted me to ask if I had arrived, and as I was walking towards Camden Locks on a crowded Saturday, he texted, "I’m on the other side, I’m wearing my hat." Oh man, was he doing this on purpose? That hat always got to me.

I'm on one side of the locks, and that's when I spot him on the complete opposite side. He waves at me, flashing the biggest smile and looking incredibly handsome with his hat. Gosh, I had forgotten just how good looking he was. This moment felt surreal; my whole body went numb as I gazed at him smiling at me. Here we were, after maybe one or two months of not seeing each other, and I'm suddenly back in the deep end. 

I walk around to join him, and we greet each other with a hug and a quick chat. I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes, or else I'll start giggling like a schoolgirl. Our friends arrive, and we hop on the boat, chatting comfortably as if nothing had changed. He asks about updates in my life, and I reciprocate with curiosity about him. Later, at the pub to watch the F1, he positioned himself directly in front of me under the TV—a perfect excuse to steal glances at him the whole time. He even buys me a drink, a gesture I appreciate.As the evening winds down, everyone starts to leave. We bid each other goodbye at the underground station, and that's it. No grand finale. Part of me feels a tinge of sadness at the simplicity of our interaction, but another part understands that this is for the best. 

I had mentioned I have dinner plans and need to stick around, so I decided to take the tube to the dinner place and wander around to kill some time which gave me some time to think.

We're both at different stages in our lives, and he may not be what I'm looking for in a man, at least not now. Sometimes, it's better to leave things as they are because the timing just isn't right for either of us. I'm ready to move on, but he may not be. I suspect he's still very attached to his ex and likely still healing from it. He needs time to process his feelings and figure out what he wants. It's too early in our healing journeys for both of us, and I've always known that. I just wish I hadn't allowed myself to fall for him. 

I wasn't in love, that's for sure, but I can confidently say that I started to develop feelings for him. Admitting this can be tough, but it's not a sign of weakness; rather, it's a sign of honesty and vulnerability…

No, I don't think I was stupid to feel this way after such a short time. I was vulnerable coming out of a relationship that really broke me in the end, and I needed him as much as he needed me. We both helped each other move on, and that's what I want to remember. I want to remember how great of a person he is and how wonderful it was to go through this experience with him.

As I mentioned in the beginning, I believe The One and I had a lot in common and shared a perfect connection, both physically and emotionally. 

However, unfortunately, the timing just wasn't right.

Juliet

One thing that I was not told was how much the dating scene had changed in 6 years – you would think I should know that considering it has been so long but for some reasons I just assumed it would be the same. 

I have to say, that all the memories of me dating when I was 20 had disappeared and it was like I had forgotten all the “codes” on how to date a man, and got quickly accustomed with the “how NOT to date a guy”. 

Dating has become ruthless, but I am still wondering if it is only with us women or if men are experiencing the same thing ? The more I started talking about it around me the more women were agreeing and even sharing their dating stories which were all very similar to mine. 

Are men the problem? Are we the problem? Why is dating so hard and so emotionally draining? Surely if two people have good energy and like spending time with each other this should be enough ? That was before I started learning about situationships and casual relationships – opposed to casual sex. 

Why are there so many rules to follow? “You shouldn’t chase a man” “Don’t have sex with a man on the first date” “Do not date younger” “Never accept a last minute date”. Are those even working? 

Surely you are now thinking that possibly the best course of action would be to wait until I am “ready” to start dating again. But what does “ready” even mean ? Am I ever going to recover from the sudden breakup and emotional trauma that my ex put me through ? Probably not, but I know that now I have moved on and “ready” to prioritise myself. 

My standards have changed and I now know what I want and what I don’t want. But dating has also taught me many things about myself and what does and doesn’t work for me. 

Now you must be wondering why I have called this “Sex & The Misery” – firstly because I am a big fan of Sex & The City so had to make a reference, but mostly because at present this is how I feel with the dating scene. Maybe throughout my writing I will end up happy in a relationship but writing today it is mostly the latter. This is London, which in my opinion has a lot of similarities with the NYC dating scene.

Why am I putting myself through this? You must be wondering, if I am so “miserable” ? Maybe because I do love the sudden shot of adrenaline that dating gives me but also because I had forgotten how it felt to feel like you are attractive enough for men to want to date you. And also because I 100% entertain my friends a lot with my dating stories. 

I have been wanting to write down my dating stories for a while as one day I was telling my stories to my friends and they said this was highly entertaining, but one of them had to leave and wanted to know the rest as well as “regular updates”. So friends reading this, you will know (if you don’t already) all the ins and outs of my dating life since I broke up with my ex, as well as updates and “what’s new”. 

I decided to respect the privacy of the people I mention in this, so I will use nicknames to refer to them – which I find makes it even more interesting anyway. As I am writing this I already have many stories to tell, and as time goes on I will have updates and more. Therefore at some point I will most likely be mentioning dates so it makes sense in the narrative. 

I hope some of you will find this entertaining and even get to learn a bit more about the current dating life for women but also just have a good laugh at my “Misery”.