There’s a popular myth in the dating world: if you’re a psychologist, you either constantly “read people like an open book” or sit on a date with a notebook and silently make diagnoses instead of falling in love. Allow me, as a person with professional deformity (and a sense of humor), to debunk this legend a little 🤣🤣

After a difficult divorce, I was not just left alone - I became a single mother. And this is the experience that changes you more deeply than you can imagine. It teaches you to be strong when you just want to exhale and stop keeping everything to yourself for a minute. But, despite everything, I still believe in love💜💜💜

Why have roles in relationships changed so much? Sometimes it seems that some men have become more emotionally demanding, sensitive to attention, expect more care, confirmation and even… a kind of “service” in relationships. And women, on the contrary, often take on more responsibility, initiative and control.

I am a mature woman. I know what I want. I have experience, mistakes, victories, disappointments and a very clear understanding behind me: life is too short to waste it on something superficial. I came to the dating site with a fairly simple intention - to find a man for a serious, deep relationship... but...

true feelings

I used to think that if you love someone deeply enough, you can pull off any relationship. If one person does the work of both, that should be enough. I sincerely believed that with warmth, patience, and the right attitude, you can melt a cold person, inspire a withdrawn person, calm an unstable person, and teach love to someone who doesn't know how to love themselves.

I used to think I should be especially comfortable to be around.

Probably the most powerful fear

used to think that if I was good enough, everything would work out. If I became calmer, gentler, more beautiful, wiser. If I didn't make scenes, didn't burden them with problems, always supported, understood, waited then I would definitely be truly loved.

And if someone leaves, it doesn't mean you're worse than them. Sometimes it only means one thing: they weren't the right person.

There are women who, on the outside, seem collected

For a long time, I prided myself on my ability to understand people. I thought it was a rare quality. I always tried to see other people's side: why they lost their temper, why they went silent, why they became cold, why they hurt someone. I found explanations for almost everything.

When a relationship becomes confusing, many women begin to wait. I waited, too. I waited for him to make up his mind. For him to end his difficult times. For him to start texting more often. For him to understand who he was losing. For him to wake up a different person one day and everything to be okay. I thought waiting was a sign of love. If your feelings are real, then you have to be patient. Don't push. Don't rush. Don't demand clarity. After all, everyone has their own pace, their own problems, their own fears.

There are women who calmly speak up if they don't like something. They ask for what they need. They refuse if they don't want it. I used to think this was a special talent I wasn't blessed with.

I used to present almost every desire I had as an inconvenience. If I wanted attention, I'd say it as a joke. If I needed help, I'd apologize profusely first. If I wanted to see someone, I'd try to make it sound like I didn't care: "If you can, of course," "If you're not busy," "If it's convenient for you."

For a long time, I thought patience was the most important feminine quality. Endure difficult times. Endure a man's bad mood. Endure coldness, busyness, and harshness because he's stressed. Endure inconvenience, because there's no such thing as a perfect relationship. It's as if this is taught from childhood: a good woman knows how to wait, understand, and be patient.

When I was younger, it seemed normal to me to constantly work for a relationship. Monitor a man's mood, guess what upset him, initiate difficult conversations, reconcile us after fights, come up with plans together, support him through crises, and still not seem tired. I thought that's what mature love looked like.

Ever since childhood, I was told that you can't be weak. You have to study, work, not complain, and not bother anyone with your problems. I learned this lesson quickly. When things were difficult, I smiled. When I was scared, I pretended I had everything under control. When I wanted help, I kept quiet.

I used to live with the belief that if someone loved me, they would understand everything themselves. They would sense when I was down. They would notice when I was tired. They would hear in my tone that something had hurt me. I thought that's how true intimacy works without unnecessary words. When someone reads between the lines.

For a long time, I considered myself good. Not in the sense of perfect, but in the everyday feminine sense of the word. I didn't argue unnecessarily, tried to help everyone, smoothed over conflicts, tolerated inconveniences, and almost never asked for anything for myself. I thought that's exactly the kind of woman people love: calm, understanding, gentle, easy-going.