Sometimes the universe makes you date the wrong people on purpose, just so one day you meet someone mildly functional and think, “Wait… so this isn’t supposed to feel like unpaid emotional labor??”

And suddenly you’re looking back at your romantic past like: Why was I fighting for my life in relationships that were never even meant to pass the pilot episode? Was it character development? A spiritual side quest? Or was I simply blind, delusional, and running on potential instead of reality?

For context: I didn’t date for a year. Unless we’re counting the few dates I went on in Milano purely for research purposes: just to check that Italian men and I, indeed, live on different planets, in different timelines, under different laws of physics. After that, I focused on myself. I fell in love with my own energy. I built boundaries so solid they could qualify as architecture.

Then I almost got hit by a car. And like any emotionally mature woman, I thought, Life is fragile, and re-downloaded dating apps.. 

Suddenly? My phone is full of people I’m actually compatible with. Nice. Communicative. Calm. Where were you men before? In a cave? In therapy? In a different reality because I had not reached that floor yet?

Here’s the real kicker: remembering the last guy, you know, the one I would’ve bent reality for, now makes me physically nauseous. Like… I cried myself to sleep for that? Ladies. Be serious.

I heard a song about incompatibility and going in circles with someone yesterday. I laughed. I could finally see it. A year later. Well, at this point it’s better late than never, right?

I guess we really don’t know what fits until we’ve worn the wrong size for too long. 

Experience matters. Not because suffering builds character (it doesn’t, it just builds eye bags), but because it teaches clarity. I finally see I was never asking for too much: I was asking the wrong person. Wanting emotional availability from someone unwilling to give it isn’t romantic. It’s self-abandonment in a cute outfit. And it’s something I swore I will never, ever, under any circumstances. 

So yes, if he wanted to, he would. And if he didn’t? Another man will. Usually right around the moment you stop auditioning for love and start receiving it. When you know your worth. When your life is so full and enjoyable that love is a bonus, not a life raft. When you’re whole on your own and not using another human being as your emotional support system. Because you can stand on your own two damn feet: happy, grounded, and self-regulated.

Which is why that painfully simple truth still stands: if you’re not happy on your own, no relationship is going to magically fix that. It’ll just put better lighting on the problem. And you are so much better off without the people spotlighting all your insecurities and driving you crazy. My 2025 summary already looked too much like “I am better off, and I love my life.” 

Here’s to 2026. To aligned, healthy, easy connections. To people who choose us without convincing. And to never again confusing intensity with compatibility.

Cheers.