I’ve never been great at conversations. On the contrary, I always felt like I talked too much. Somewhere deep inside, I believed that if I didn’t fill every pause with words, the other person would think I was bored. That I wasn’t interested. That I simply didn’t know how to listen.
But one day I realized: it’s not about the words. It’s about the fact that I was trying to silence the quiet, as if it were some kind of glitch in the system. As if, without a constant stream of phrases, the world would stop existing.

A couple of years ago, I was sitting on a bench in the park with a friend. We were silent. Just like that—no music, no phones, no attempts to “keep the conversation going.” And then she said:
— You know, I’ve never felt as calm with anyone as I do here, next to you.

I was caught off guard. Because the silence stopped feeling heavy. It became something like comfort. As if we were two trees, simply standing side by side, not demanding hugs or explanations from each other.

Since then, I’ve started noticing this more and more. Silence is not always a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes it’s a sign that everything is exactly right.

I work in tourism, and for me, spring is not just the season when gardens bloom. It’s the time when something inside begins to bloom too. The air becomes softer, the взгляд warmer, and the heart feels like it’s waking up from a long sleep.

Why do we feel such a strong desire to love in spring? Because this is when we begin to breathe deeper. To feel more. To notice the details—light, scents, touches. And along with that comes the desire to be closer. Not to an abstract idea of love, but to a real person—with their warmth, their breath, their genuine emotions.

Spring is not about cinematic romances. It’s about the awakening of our desire to feel again. The courage to open up. The simple wish to live.

And maybe love is just a natural continuation of that state.

I’m looking for someone who knows how to listen

I’m divorced, and it’s not a tragedy—it’s experience. Experience that taught me to value silence. Taught me not to fear pauses. Taught me that real connection isn’t in constant words, but in simply being.

I love traveling, walks, and those moments when you can just feel life next to someone who matters. Someone who isn’t afraid of silence. Someone who knows how to listen not only with their ears, but with their heart.

I’m looking for a confident, kind man. Someone who values warmth, chemistry, and real connection. Someone who isn’t afraid of silence, because he understands that sometimes it holds more meaning than a thousand words.

I’m not looking for perfect. I’m looking for mine.

P.S. If you’re reading this and feel that somewhere inside, spring is waking up too—write to me. Maybe we can find it together. ✨