When I was 22, I was still figuring out who I was, while he seemed to embody everything I desired. We met on a dating app, and our connection was instant. He was an exchange student, new to my city, and the excitement of our budding romance was intoxicating. I was captivated by him, hanging on to every word, even though I sensed a certain distance beneath his charm.
Our relationship felt like a whirlwind, fueled by my naivety. I vividly recall the countless hours spent in cafés, where laughter mingled with the aroma of coffee. My life began to revolve around him — his friends, his interests, his chaotic lifestyle. He was a “fuck boy,” and while I was enamored, I overlooked the red flags right in front of me.
We lived in the same area, yet our lives felt like parallel lines that would never truly intersect. I often imagined a future where we shared a life, but I didn’t realize that I was losing pieces of myself along the way. Almost a year passed, full of bliss and confusion, and I learned that love shouldn’t feel like a chase.
We decided to spend a week together on an island. It was magical at first, but a moment during our trip changed everything. While waiting for the ferry, he misstepped, and when I saw blood pooling beneath his foot, my heart raced.
He, always so composed, now showed fear. We rushed to the hospital. In the emergency room, this strong, usually confident guy gripped my hand as if it were his lifeline.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured him, stroking his hair as he trembled against me.
It was the first time I saw him truly vulnerable, and I realized that maybe love was taking care of someone when they’re at their weakest. But somewhere, a small voice whispered that love shouldn’t feel so one-sided.
Our week continued, and I found myself taking on every task with joy. I brought meals to our bungalow, rented a bike to explore the island, and even covered every bill. It started to feel normal — me paying for everything.
My friends questioned it: “You’re paying for everything? What are you, his sugar mama?” I laughed it off, but their words hit closer to home than I let on. I convinced myself it was a way to show I cared, but each time I paid, a small part of me felt… smaller.
Then came the party. I wanted him to meet my friends, and everything seemed fine — maybe too fine. One of my friends caught his attention. I missed the signs that night. Later, he confessed: he had slept with her. I was shocked, but I didn’t let my emotions show. “Alright, I can’t do this anymore. Let’s end it,” I said calmly. And just like that, it was over.
For me, cheating was a red line. It wasn’t just the act; it was the disrespect. I couldn’t imagine being with someone again after such a betrayal. So, I moved on.
In the weeks that followed, I kept my distance. He became a stranger. It was one of the most challenging times I’d ever faced, but I made it through. That experience transformed me. Life doesn’t always go as planned, but it’s not about what happens to us; it’s about how we rise from it.
The most important lesson I learned was this: we need to love ourselves first, fiercely and unapologetically. We give so much of ourselves to others, but what about turning that love inward? When you truly love yourself, you set the standard for how others should treat you. You become your own source of strength, and nothing can tear you down.
So if you’re in a situation that drains your energy, that leaves you questioning if you’re enough, remember: you are. You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel valued every day. Choose yourself — always. Because in the end, it’s not about how deeply you loved someone else; it’s about how fiercely you chose to love yourself.
“Because when I love, I love with all that I am, giving without holding back, even if it means losing a piece of myself.”
