Wanderhoney.com

I’ve always imagined being in a committed relationship—sharing my life with someone who would love me as much as I loved him. The idea of building a future together and supporting each other through life’s ups and downs felt like a beautiful dream. But somewhere along the way, I learned to rely on myself. Independence became a big part of who I am, and while it wasn’t always easy, it taught me a lot. I’ve handled life on my own for as long as I can remember, and when I look back, I can’t help but be proud of the strength that’s come from it.

But, if I’m being honest, there were moments when I felt tired of carrying the weight of everything alone. Sometimes, I just wanted someone else to carry that 10-kilogram bag of rice up to the 17th floor for me. Haha, you get the idea. Back then, I dreamed of building a happy, healthy, and loving family. That dream, however, has changed. I buried it so deeply that it barely crosses my mind anymore. But do I still believe in love?

Oh, the answer is YES.

I still believe in love. Why wouldn’t I? Just because it didn’t work for me in the past doesn’t mean love isn’t real. In fact, love is what keeps my parents, my brothers, and me together. True love exists, but not everyone is fortunate enough to experience it. 

I’ve seen what it looks like firsthand—my younger brother and his girlfriend spent 7 years together before deciding to get married. They’re still deeply in love. That’s what I strive for, not the flawed relationships I had in the past. And for those past mistakes, I don’t blame anyone but myself.

Is it truly my fault?

Our choices shape our lives. Good or bad, they leave a mark. Did I deserve the pain I went through? No. But I do believe I deserved the lessons that came with it. Life has a way of teaching us, even if it feels unfair. Denying this truth would’ve held me back from learning and growing.

So yeah, it depends on how we perceive things. I began to focus on my self-love journey when I adopted a positive outlook on what happened in my previous relationship. What happened was unfair, indeed, because I know I have great values, but the lesson it taught me has greatly improved me as a person, especially as a woman. Not only that, even the good I brought to that relationship improved my ex’s life in some way. Oddly enough, we needed each other back then.

My dating life in my 20s

Looking back, I realize I jumped into dating too quickly, moving from one person to the next. In my high school and early 20s, I was pretty popular, and people often assumed I’d marry young. But none of those relationships felt serious. I don’t think I even understood love until I was 28.

That’s when I entered a long-distance relationship with someone from Greece named Chris. Despite being 15,000 kilometres apart, he made me feel loved, cared for, and valued. He showed me what loyalty and commitment looked like. We were together for almost 3 years, and not once did he make me feel unimportant.

People say long-distance relationships don’t work. Personally, I’d take a long-distance relationship like that over the shallow, fleeting connections so common today. The excitement once you see each other at the airport—nothing in this world can compare to that. I’ll always be grateful to Chris for those experiences.

Why I’m glad I didn’t marry young

In my 20s, I didn’t fully understand who I was or what I wanted. Every mistake I made in relationships taught me something about myself. Now, I’m grateful I spent that time figuring things out. I’ve learned to live life on my own timeline rather than rushing to match others.

I admit that I wasn’t always supportive of people marrying young—like when my younger brother got married at 24. I wanted him to enjoy his youth. But I came to realize that everyone’s timeline is different. He was mature enough to handle it, just as I wasn’t ready at that age.

What I’ve learned about men and relationships

Many men have wanted to date me, but few ever truly wanted to understand me. Compliments like “You’re beautiful,” “You’re hot,” or “You’re cute” don’t flatter me the way they used to. Sure, admiration is nice, but relationships aren’t built on surface-level praise.

Most men get excited about a woman’s admirable qualities—her beauty, charm, or confidence—without considering that she’s also human, complete with flaws. She carries emotional baggage: sadness, anger, anxiety, fears, jealousy, insecurities, and trauma. She also has physical imperfections: acne breakouts, weight fluctuations, wrinkles, or even hair loss. It’s not always pretty. Sometimes a person can be messy, vulnerable, and far from perfect.

When a relationship is based solely on someone’s positive attributes, without acknowledging the challenges or imperfections, it’s bound to falter. As I reflect, I also realize that beyond the flaws I’ve mentioned, I’ve rarely encountered men who genuinely cared to understand my past—what shaped me, what hurt me—before deciding they wanted to be with me.

Why understanding the past matters

“What is your childhood trauma?”

“How did you grow up?”

“What was the worst thing that ever happened to you?” 

“Do you have any health issues in the past?”

These questions matter because many things in our lives are connected to our past, whether we realize it or not. Knowing someone’s history gives you insight into their present. Without that understanding, it’s easy to judge or misinterpret their actions. We are often quick to judge what we don’t understand and quick to react to what we see, rather than taking the time to grasp the deeper context of someone’s experiences.

I want someone who can understand me and love me unconditionally—not just when things are easy, but when it takes patience and effort. Someone who doesn’t pretend to “get it” but genuinely takes the time to understand. Someone who won’t make me relive the pain of my past and someone who can calm me down during my outbursts.

Looking for a best friend, not just a partner

These days, I’m in no rush to find a romantic partner. I’ve grown too comfortable being on my own. When a man flirts with me, or I sense he has intentions of dating me, my instinct is to run. It’s like when we’re scared of something—we flee to save ourselves. That’s exactly what I do. I run. The friendship ends up ruined, and I don’t bother to talk to him anymore.

At this point, it would take someone truly extraordinary—remarkable, even—to win my heart. For now, the closest a man can get to being in my life is as a best friend. And honestly, it’s an honour when I start calling him my best friend because, to me, that’s the highest level a man can reach in my life right now. It’s not the “friend zone.” It’s the “safe zone,” if that makes sense. Haha.

Maybe someday, I’ll be ready to commit, but I’m certain I won’t date anyone outside of this “best friend” zone. Being my best friend means he’s already taken the time to know me, talk to me, and make me feel comfortable enough to share my life with him. I rarely connect with men these days, but when I can be naturally funny and witty around someone, I know the vibes match. Building a solid friendship is my priority, and I’ll let time decide what happens after that.

Not all men have the privilege to be in my life

Yup, as complicated as it sounds. I’ve become very selective about who I let into my life, even as friends. I only engage in ongoing communication with men who I find have the same interests as me and have good qualities and principles in life, men who have a good career and are matched with me both physically and mentally. I don’t waste my time anymore talking to anyone for fun or just because I’m bored. Everything is about qualities and standards. I don’t want to lower myself to the level I did in the past only to live up to someone else’s standard of living. Nobody should let such happen in their lives.

So yeah, if I like you, you’ll know. If I don’t, you’ll know that too. Either way, life goes on. 

X, Hani.

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