Some people can't talk about their feelings.

Some people only know how to talk about their feelings.

Some people are still living in their past marriage.

Some people are so afraid of the new that they'd rather just marry their couch.

And I realized one day that I don't want to "reveal" anyone anymore.

I don't want to be a female archaeologist: unearthing his traumas, explaining his feelings to him, teaching him how to talk, and then proudly saying, "Look at this man."

I need a living specimen.

With his flaws, of course.

I'm not looking for the perfect man.

Perfect men only exist in advertising campaigns and in other people's stories.

I'm looking for an adult.

Who understands what he wants.

Who knows how to be alone, and therefore doesn't cling to relationships out of fear.

Someone who chooses me not because he urgently needs someone by his side, but because he enjoys my company.

And perhaps that's the most attractive thing I can imagine right now.

Not when I'm being saved.

Not when I'm being pursued at any cost.

But when two independent people one day look at each other and think:

"We really are better together."