There’s something suspiciously enchanting about someone who isn’t around. When they’re not texting back, not showing up, or not in the room, they become saints, poets, and misunderstood geniuses in our minds. We replay their half-smiles like sacred relics. We assign meaning to silences. We say, “They must be thinking about me too.” (They’re not. They’re probably thinking about pizza.…
You know before they say anything. You pretend you don’t. You double down on the jokes. You casually mention your latest dating disaster like a human smoke bomb. But the truth hangs in the air like forgotten laundry—obvious, slightly uncomfortable, and starting to smell like tension. There’s a certain kind of panic that hits when your best friend looks at…
You know those stories about people who have been happily married for 30 years, only to attend a high school or grade school reunion and suddenly fall head over heels for their old crush? The kind of emotional tornado where they’re even considering leaving their families behind? I always thought those people were either going senile or, frankly, just losing…