Yesterday I realized how dangerous it is to be hungry and lonely at the same time. I ordered pizza. I open the door — there’s a tall, polite guy, smiling. And he smells… like dough and responsibility.

He said, “Have a good evening.” I replied, “And to you… marital happiness.” Why did I say that?

While he was walking down the stairs, I was already mentally inventing how I’d tell our kids the story of how we met. Five minutes later, I dropped a slice of pizza on the floor. Fate said: “Cool it.”

Sometimes it feels like my romance switches on at the slightest excuse. A man in uniform, exact change, eye contact — and suddenly my brain writes a whole script.

But the truth is, I just want someone nearby who brings not only pizza, but calmness. And preferably with no extra delivery fee 😄

For now, I’m learning not to confuse service with destiny))