I’m Not In A Hurry But It’s Just So Fucked Up Lol

Why People in Relationships Who Stay in the Dating Pool Are the Worst 🙄🙄🙄

Let’s get one thing straight: if you’re already in a relationship and still lurking in the dating pool, you’re playing with fire—and not in the fun, adventurous way. You’re deliberately hurting people, and no matter how you spin it, that’s just plain selfish.

For starters, relationships are built on trust. When someone chooses to be with you, they’re committing their time, emotions, and often a big part of their life to you. By keeping one foot in the dating world, you’re betraying that trust. It’s dishonest and manipulative. You’re leading people on, both your partner and anyone you’re flirting with in the dating scene, giving them false hope or expectations.

It's not just about hurting your partner either. The people you’re chatting up on dating apps or meeting through other channels? They're being deceived too. No one enters the dating pool thinking they’re going to be someone’s backup plan or side fling. Most people are there hoping to build something genuine, and by pretending to be available, you’re wasting their time and energy—time they could be using to find someone who's actually emotionally and physically available.

Then there’s the emotional damage you're causing. People who discover their partner is still dating on the side often end up with trust issues, insecurities, and emotional scars that last long after the relationship ends. You’re not just making a mistake in the moment; you’re causing long-term harm to others.

Being in the dating pool while in a relationship is an act of selfishness. It shows a lack of respect for your partner and for the people you're stringing along. If you're unhappy in your current relationship or seeking something new, the mature and respectful thing to do is end things before involving other people. Otherwise, you're just proving you don’t value honesty, loyalty, or the feelings of those around you.

In short, if you’re in a relationship and still trying to date, you're acting like an asshole. It’s toxic, harmful, and deeply disrespectful to everyone involved. Do better. 💅

I just have to pull some strings here and plan ahead. I should have a better plan for 2022. Two plans. Just in case the first one fails.

Woke up with a blurry right eye

I hope it went well. *fingers crossed*

The 30-Day Love Detox: How to Dump Someone and Boomerang Back into Their Heart Like Nothing Happened

Ah yes, the classic love story: boy meets girl, boy dumps girl, boy realizes 30 days later that life without girl is a bit boring, and voilà, he’s suddenly enlightened. If only all of life’s problems could be solved with this much grace and wisdom! So, for those aspiring romantics out there who want to master the fine art of dump-and-reconnect, I present to you: The 30-Day Love Detox Program!

Step 1: The Dramatic Exit – Make Them Wonder If You're Joining a Cult The first step in this master plan is to make your exit look like you're about to embark on some spiritual journey (cue random deep quotes about "finding yourself"). Pro tip: Try breaking up in the most cliché location possible—maybe a park bench with leaves falling dramatically around you, or at a cafe while you sip on an overpriced artisanal latte. Look them dead in the eyes and say something profound like, “I just need to find out who I really am… without you.” This will leave them thinking, "Wow, maybe they're going to start meditating on a mountaintop?" Spoiler alert: You’re not.

Step 2: Ghost Like a Pro – Silence Speaks Louder Than Words… or Texts Now that you’ve set the stage for your epic transformation (aka, a month of Netflix and scrolling through Tinder), it’s time to ghost like it’s your part-time job. Not a single message. Total radio silence. Make sure your social media presence is carefully curated: post a few artsy photos of sunsets, yoga poses (that you definitely didn’t do), and maybe one of those cryptic "self-growth" memes, like, “Sometimes, you have to lose yourself to become the person you were meant to be.” Deep, right? Meanwhile, you’re really just mastering the art of lounging on your couch.

Step 3: The "Epiphany" – AKA, You Miss Their Netflix Password After a glorious 30 days (definitely not because you’ve run out of things to do or people to swipe left on), it’s time to have your “epiphany.” Suddenly, you’ve realized that they’re the one. Or at least the one who had a really great HBO subscription. So you send the message that every ex just loves to receive out of the blue: “Hey… been thinking a lot. I realize now that what we had was special. Can we talk?” Oh really? It took you a whole month to figure that out? What’s next, he misses your Spotify playlists and suddenly realizes he can’t live without you? Groundbreaking stuff. Because what says personal growth better than completely disregarding the fact that you dumped them for vague, mysterious reasons? Growth, baby. Growth.

Step 4: The Overly Casual Meet-Up – Because We’re Totally Mature Adults Now, suggest the casual meet-up. Something low-key, like grabbing coffee or, better yet, bumping into them “accidentally” at the exact cafe they frequent every Thursday at 4 PM. Apologize for your “growth period,” but don’t overdo it—you don’t want them to think you’re TOO sorry. Let them know you’re ready to “give it another shot,” as if you’re offering a rare, limited-time-only opportunity. Remember to throw in phrases like “fresh start” or “new chapter,” because nothing screams romance like pretending the last chapter wasn’t a dumpster fire.

Step 5: The Reboot – Because What Could Go Wrong? At this point, they might be confused, mildly entertained, or plotting your demise, but hey, you feel like you’ve turned over a new leaf! What could possibly go wrong by giving it another try, right? After all, you’ve had a whole 30 days of spiritual Netflix therapy—totally enough time to rewrite your relationship future. Spoiler alert: The sequel is usually worse than the original, but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained!

In Conclusion: Why go through all the hassle of working on yourself, learning from your mistakes, or communicating better, when you can just dump someone, wait a month, and swoop back in with a fresh coat of charm? Because in the game of love, nothing says “I’m serious this time” like making a dramatic comeback after a whole four weeks of soul-searching (or, you know, browsing memes) or as if you’ve just come back from some emotional sabbatical.

I mourn my youth

I mourn my youth with a sorrow that feels almost unbearable. Not because it’s gone but because I realize I never truly lived it.

I ache for all the moments I let slip by, the countless chances I ignored, thinking there’d always be more time. I regret the nights I should have spent out, surrounded by laughter and people who would have helped me feel alive. Instead, I stayed in the shadows, clinging to comfort and safety, only to find out too late that those things would cost me the memories I could never make.

I think of all the times I chose sleep over adventure, the days I kept my life small and predictable instead of going somewhere new. I missed the thrill of being spontaneous, of packing a bag and leaving without knowing where I’d end up. I missed places that could have shown me how vast and beautiful the world really is, places I’ll only ever know through the stories of others who dared to go.

And the people—I mourn them most of all. I wonder about the friendships that never had a chance to grow, the faces I never got to know because I was too scared to take a step toward them. There were probably kindred souls, people who would have understood me better than I understood myself, waiting somewhere in the world. But I kept to my familiar circle, never daring to reach out, and now they’re strangers I’ll never meet.

I look back, and it’s almost unbearable to realize how much I lost. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self to be brave, to take the risks, to live as if these days would eventually run out. But all I have now is this ache, this haunting feeling of a life half-lived. And the hardest part is knowing that these missed moments will forever be just that—echoes of a life I could have had but never did.

“It was not witches who burned. It was women. Women who were seen as Too beautiful, Too outspoken, Had too much water in the well (yes, seriously), Who had a birthmark, Women who were too skilled with herbal medicine, Too loud, Too quiet, Too much red in her hair, Women who had a strong nature connection, Women who danced, Women who sung, or anything else, really. ANY WOMAN WAS AT RISK BURNING IN THE SIXTEEN HUNDREDS Sisters testified and turned on each other when their babies were held under ice. Children were tortured to confess their experiences with “witches” by being fake executed in ovens. Women were held under water and if they float, they were guilty and executed. If they sunk and drowned they were innocent. Women were thrown off cliffs. Women were put in deep holes in the ground. The start of this madness was years of famine, war between religions and lots of fear. The churches said that witches, demons and the devil did exist and women were nothing but trouble. As we see even today, there is often a scapegoat created, and the chaos escalated in Sweden when the Bible became law and everything that did not line up with what the church said became lethal. The Bible fanaticism killed thousands of women. Everything connected to a women became feared, especially her sexuality. It became labeled as dark and dangerous and was the core of the witch trials through out the world. Why do I write this? Because I think the usage of words are important, especially when we are doing the work to pull these murky, repressed and forgotten about stories to the surface. Because knowing our history is important when we are building the new world. When we are doing the healing work of our lineages and as women. To give the women who were slaughtered a voice, to give them redress and a chance of peace. It was not witches who burned. It was women." ~ Fia Forsström, author

hahahahahaha!

Some moments cut so deep they become woven into who we are. Choosing to close the door on someone who brought so much pain isn’t just a decision; it’s survival. In the quiet spaces of my heart, I still hear the echoes of betrayal, disappointment, and heartbreak. Whenever I think of letting him back in, a wave of loathing rises up, reminding me that stepping back into that pain would mean losing myself all over again.

Let’s be clear: there are people who take and take, leaving nothing but a hollow shell in their wake. He was one of those people. The way he twisted my trust into a weapon against me was nothing short of monstrous. I loathe him, not just for what he did, but for the way he made me feel—small, insignificant, and unworthy of love. He took my vulnerability and used it as a means to manipulate and control, and the sheer audacity of that betrayal is enough to make my blood boil.

The memories haunt me like phantoms in the night. I remember the promises made, the tender words whispered in the dark, and the way they all crumbled like ash in the face of reality. He was a storm that wrecked my peace, and now, the thought of inviting that chaos back into my life makes my stomach churn. I would rather drown in despair than suffer through another chapter of torment that he would bring.

It’s infuriating how someone can waltz in and out of your life, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart. I have spent countless nights wrestling with the demons of self-doubt and despair he unleashed upon me. I have fought against the notion that I am somehow responsible for the pain he inflicted. But now, with every ounce of strength within me, I declare that I will not let him back in. I refuse to be a victim of his charm once more, a puppet in his twisted game of manipulation.

The agony of betrayal runs deep, and the scars left behind are reminders of the strength I’ve found within myself. The choice to keep him out is not just about protection; it’s about self-respect. I would rather die than endure the suffering of reliving the torment he caused. The thought of opening that door, of offering him a second chance he does not deserve, fills me with a deep, aching dread.

So, I stand firm. I choose to honor my pain rather than let it fester into something more destructive. I refuse to let him back in, to allow his toxicity to seep into my life once more. Every moment spent apart is a testament to my resilience, a reminder that I have the power to reclaim my life from the wreckage he left behind.

To anyone who finds themselves at a similar crossroads: choose yourself. Choose peace over chaos. The road ahead may be paved with heartache, but it’s also a path toward healing and strength. Embrace the emotions that arise—let the anger and sadness wash over you, but don’t let them define you. You are not a product of someone else’s actions; you are a warrior who has fought and survived.

In the end, my decision is not just about him; it’s about my freedom. I will not suffer the consequences of his choices any longer. I will not allow the ghosts of my past to dictate my future. I close this chapter for good, sealing the door with a promise to myself: I am worthy of better.

This isn't because of insomnia, it's the trauma.