Loneliness is not always about sadness. Sometimes it is about freedom. About silence, in which you can hear your own thoughts. About Saturday mornings, when you don't have to rush anywhere. About cocoa in your favorite mug, warm socks, and a movie that I'm watching for the third time — because I love it, because I can, because it feels so good.

When I'm alone, I organize evenings exclusively "for myself." I can cook dinner, set the table, light candles — not for guests, not for an "impression." For myself. And it doesn't seem strange to me. On the contrary, it is a manifestation of love for life. And for myself.

But, honestly? There are moments when you want to share all this with someone. Not because it's bad without it. But because with someone — it can be even better.

I want a man next to me who is not afraid of silence, loves to laugh, is not afraid of depth. I'm not looking for an ideal. I'm looking for "my own" — someone with whom it is easy to be silent and interesting to talk. With whom you can go to the park, to the roof, under the blanket, and into life.