Women and the city

I never loved him. At least, not in the way people expect you to love someone.

And somehow… more than ten years later, he’s still part of my story.

There is a man in almost every woman’s life who leaves a mark on her.

Not a boyfriend.

Not an ex.

Not the love of her life.

Just… someone.

Someone who somehow survives the years, the distance, the people who come after, and every version of yourself you’ve ever been.

They never become your future.

But somehow, they never completely become your past either.

Of course, I had one too.

I was the first woman in his life.

He was the first in what would later become a very long list of terrible decisions. Fortunately for me, those decisions eventually turned into good stories.

We never dated.

We never talked about relationships.

We never made promises.

We simply met at the right—or maybe the wrong—time.

Like most teenagers, we confused chemistry with destiny.

Except… we never really cared to find out the difference.

We weren’t in love.

Not even close.

We were just two people who happened to speak the same dangerous language.

Life eventually happened.

University.

New cities.

New relationships.

New mistakes.

When one of us was in a relationship, we disappeared from each other’s lives completely. No messages. No late-night conversations. No blurred boundaries.

Then, months—or sometimes years later—life would quietly bring us back into the same conversation again.

As if no time had passed at all.

It’s funny how some people don’t need constant presence to remain familiar.

Five years went by without talking to each other.

He moved to the UK.

I built an entirely different life.

Yet somehow, we always kept each other somewhere in the background.

Not because we were waiting.

Just because neither of us felt the need to erase the other.

He’s one of those men I can’t really describe without sounding biased.

Handsome.

Smart.

The kind of person who could probably convince you that the sky is green if he felt like it.

Words have always been his greatest weapon.

If you’re not careful, you’ll mistake the way he makes you feel for love.

Many probably already have. I know i did back in the day.

We’ve known each other for more than a decade.

Long enough to know exactly who the other person is.

Short enough never to become each other’s future.

The funny thing is…

People assume that if two people share this much chemistry, they must secretly be in love.

We never were.

What we had was something much stranger.

There was attraction.

There was trust.

There was the kind of honesty that somehow only exists when neither person expects forever.

No expectations.

No promises.

No pretending to be someone else.

Just two people who always found their way back to the same conversation.

Funny enough…

He probably has no idea how much he influenced the woman I eventually became.

Not because he changed my life.

But because he reminded me that desire and love are two completely different things.

That someone can make you feel beautiful without being your soulmate.

That attraction can survive distance.

And that not every meaningful connection has to become a relationship to matter.

Honey…

I know you’ll read this.

Mostly because I’ll probably send it to you myself.

Thank you.

For always making me feel beautiful.

For always knowing exactly what to say.

For reminding me, over and over again, that confidence is sometimes borrowed from the people who see something in us before we see it ourselves.

You’ll probably always be my favorite terrible idea.

And honestly…

I’m okay with that.

To every woman reading this…

I hope life gives you someone who reminds you that you’re desirable.

Someone who kisses you like they’ve been waiting all week to do it.

Someone who makes you laugh until your stomach hurts.

But more than anything…

I hope someone chooses you.

Because desire is unforgettable.

Being chosen is irreplaceable.

Maybe that’s what growing up really is.

Realizing that not every person you’re meant to love is meant to become your partner.

Some people simply become part of your story.

And maybe…

That’s enough.

Some people never become yours. They simply become one of your favorite stories.

Until next time.. 🤍