It has been almost five years since my last relationship.
Love isn’t a game. Not for me.
Everyone’s swiping, calculating, and hunting for connections like shopping online. But love? Real love isn’t an algorithm. It’s messy. Unpredictable.
I remember those old movies. Before Trilogy. Two strangers wandering Vienna, talking about everything. Nothing. That moment when silence means more than words. That’s love.
And if you have seen this recent movie Past Lives [spoiler warning] the last climax scene. It has almost zero dialogues and yet it conveys so much.
It’s not that I’ve turned away from love. I don’t believe in finding it by playing the odds. It’s hard, in this age, not to feel like we’ve reduced love to a checklist — height, hobbies, a clever bio.
But real love? It’s messy. Complicated. Not some fairy tale or perfect Instagram moment.
Remember that gut-punch scene from Fleabag? Where the Priest says, “It’ll pass,” and she responds, “But what if it doesn’t want to?” That’s love. Not a neat package, but a wild, unpredictable force that doesn’t follow rules.
