The Evil Called Love

  You’ve just had the most amazing first date. It was like something out of a cheesy rom-com where the rain starts falling just as you kiss goodnight. You’re floating on cloud nine, convinced that you’ve finally found “the one.” But what if, instead of finding the love of your life, you’re just feeding a delusion? Let’s be honest: first dates are basically auditions.  We all put our best foot forward, wearing clothes we wouldn’t normally wear and talking about interests we barely care about. We’re not meeting the real person; we’re meeting their representative. And let’s face it, representatives are always on their best behavior. When you feel an intense connection right away, it’s easy to think you’ve met your soulmate. But more often than not, this is just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s called “projection,” and it’s when you project all your hopes and dreams onto someone you’ve just met. They’re not “the one”; they’re a blank canvas you’ve painted with your ideal partner fant

There you are, sitting across from a stranger who is suddenly not a stranger. Sparks fly, the room fades away, and you find yourself speaking in a movie script. “This is it,” you think. “I’ve found the one!” But before you start planning your couple’s Instagram handle, let’s pause for a reality check. We all love a good story. That love story worth posting online. We all want that. The problem is, we often turn dates into mini-romantic comedies in our heads. After just one date, we convince ourselves that we’ve met our soulmate. Why? Because it feels good. Because it’s exciting. And because no one wants to admit that finding true love might actually take, well, a little more effort than a couple of overpriced cocktails. The truth is, feeling a connection on a first date is more about chemistry than compatibility. Chemistry is fun; it’s fireworks and butterflies. But compatibility is quieter. It’s built on shared values, mutual respect, and those little things that make or break a rel

It’s astonishing how quickly dreams can crumble. For weeks, I was soaring, entangled in what seemed like the start of something extraordinary. He was attentive, charming, and seemed genuinely captivated by me. Every text, every late-night chat, every tender moment felt like a step toward something meaningful. But now, as reality sets in, I understand how mistaken I was.  I’ve been played. The signs weren’t obvious at first. He had a way of making me feel exceptional, like I was the only one who mattered. I fell for it all—the sweet words, the considerate acts, the way he gazed at me with what seemed like adoration. I wove a fantasy around us, convinced we were building something real, something lasting. The night we finally spent together seemed like the culmination of our connection. It was intimate, filled with whispers and touches that made me believe this was the beginning of something beautiful. But the next morning, everything changed. The warmth in his eyes was replaced by a col

  I still remember the way he looked at me that first night we met. His eyes seemed to speak volumes, telling me that I was special, that I was different. It was the beginning of a whirlwind of attention and affection that lasted for weeks. Every text, every call, every little gesture felt like a promise of something more. He made me believe that we were building something real, something lasting. But now, sitting alone in the silence of my room, I realize that all those promises were nothing but a cruel joke. For weeks, he lavished me with attention. There were late-night conversations filled with laughter and shared dreams, sweet messages that made my heart flutter, and moments where I truly believed he saw me—really saw me—for who I was. He made me feel cherished, wanted, like I was the center of his universe. It was a beautiful illusion, one that I fell for completely. The night we finally spent together felt like the culmination of all those weeks of connection. It was supposed to