I've been all over the place lately.
Restless. Irritated. Tired of repeating myself.
And I know my patience has been running thin with you.
You don't call.
You don't message.
The day stretches on in silence.
Then at night,
when I should be asleep,
when the loneliness has already done its damage,
you send a message:
"I thought about you all day."
And I sit there staring at my screen wondering…
How?
How do you think about someone all day
and not send a single word?
How does someone cross your mind repeatedly
and your fingers never move?
It takes seconds.
"Hi."
"How are you?"
"I'm thinking of you."
"One-minute call."
That's it.
But somehow, that feels impossible for you.
I get so tired of it.
The excuses.
The explanations.
The "I was busy."
Don't men understand?
It's the most basic things that matter the most.
They try so hard to do the heavy things,
the grand things,
the stressful, dramatic gestures,
but they forget the simplest ones.
And we never get tired of the simple ones.
Calling us.
Checking on us.
Calling us.
Checking on us.
Over and over again.
We never complain about that.
They hold themselves back.
They restrain their affection.
They hide their emotions
thinking they'll scare us away.
But what they don't understand is,
we want to feel wanted.
There's a difference between possessive and obsessive.
Possessive says, "You matter to me."
Obsessive says, "You belong to me."
One feels like love.
The other feels like a cage.
We don't want cages.
We want to feel chosen.
Why think about grand gestures
when you haven't mastered the small ones?
Why plan fireworks
when you forget to light the candle?
Imagine this,
you've had a stressful day.
Work drained you.
Life pressed hard.
And he calls:
"Babe, come over. I have something for you."
You arrive, tired.
And there he is,
a simple table set,
dishes he prepared,
a quiet space made just for you.
No crowd.
No performance.
Just effort.
That's love.
That's home.
A place that shields you from the rain.
A place that says,
"You don't have to fight the world alone tonight."
Yes, there are girls who play men.
And there are men who play women.
But in between them
are the rare ones who shelter instead of destroy.
And when we find that,
we reciprocate.
We protect it.
We nurture it.
We stay.
Love is hard. That's true.
The journey is tiring.
It's filled with loopholes,
accidents,
obsessions,
lies,
and lessons that cut deep.
But betrayal only teaches the one who truly loved.
And the one who truly loves
will one day meet someone worthy of it.
The road may be heavy.
It may bruise your feet.
It may leave scars you swear will never fade.
But when love finally comes,
real love,
it doesn't arrive loudly.
It arrives consistently.
It mends scars you thought were permanent.
It heals wounds you stopped tending to.
It feels like safety.
Like rest.
Like finally exhaling after holding your breath for years.
And maybe, just maybe,
that is when God decides
you've fought enough battles alone.
That is when He blesses you
with the safe haven
you've been writing about
all along.