It was nightfall, and music was playing. She saw him sitting, not very far from her. He had a hat that covered his eyes. Then she remembered the common expression: "The eyes don't lie." But as a thinker, she knew to herself that there is something beyond what meets the eye. She knew there is more to a person than what's visible. So she sought him and offered him fish. She saw his eyes and stole a glance at his body; his biceps were five times the size of hers. His thighs, which she did not touch, looked strong, and his chest was stronger than her will to live. His gaze was the gaze of grass accompanied by puffs. She got marinated. His favorite words were: "blood," which signifies his loyalty, "My gang," which signifies his street culture, "Sometimes," which indicated his unpredictability, and "It depends," which suggested his conditional approach to life. A fortnight passed, and his laughs were contagious; the dopamine rush was intense. She kissed him. A duo of days later, "Tell her I'm not around," he whispered, his words dripping with deceit. And if that weren't enough, he fed her a couple of blatant lies. A trio of days after that, he kissed her. A tetrad of days later, they kissed. A heptad of days passed, and they had a physical relation; his touch sent shivers like electricity through her body. Her skin responded with excitement. He split her legs and found his way through it; it was a portal sitting amidst dripping fluids. "Oh, it hurts," she murmured. An octet of days, they nibbled. A nonagon of days, she saw him, and she chuckled, "Poppa bear is here... Oh! My dear Val." I think I know why she likes him: he makes it easy for her to be a lady, and he helps her amplify her business presence. Although there is an air of mystery surrounding him, some things are certain: he is a tall glass of hot chocolate. His crazy jeans and tough skin added to his rugged allure. He walks with a confident swagger. He has the loudest laugh around the table. His broad shoulders were for her protection. After a handful of weeks, she got tired of trying to keep up with his varied cues. When a man does that, know he has the one he loves, and that person is not you. "He doesn't like me," she uttered softly. They were strangers on a crazy adventure. Never dreaming what they would have to go through. So strange how two can mean so much to each other and then never speak again. Random sensations and scenes that are so vivid stop her in her tracks! She thought it was just in her head. It takes a lot of strength and resilience to keep moving with an open heart. It was nightfall again, and music was playing on high. She caught a subtle scent as he passed close to her. She stole a glance him and saw him pick that phone up for other things, certainly not for her. "I was not a priority," she sighed, her voice barely audible. She stood agape, with a façade of confidence, concealing emotional pain. The security of love and protection vanishes, and she was just in the world. What would it take for her to truly love and accept herself? Why has her happiness been dependent on the actions of others?She is one, but it felt like there are two people inside of her. The one that criticizes her and calls her stupid, a lady without self-respect and dignity, and the one that reminds her to relax, she did her best, and love is patient. She felt drained from trying to keep up. On the brightest day, she felt overwhelmed by emotions. Day after day, it's an infinity war in her head. A broken over-thinker. "One bottle" was her rhythm to the waiters. She ran to the liquor, sat quietly in the midst of the crowd, but deep within her, she screamed and groaned in pain. "This sorrow in my heart, I'm grappling with grief and regret. Maybe he's been thinking about me and the good times we shared," she hoped. "I'm searching for answers or perhaps a sense of closure." It was at once I realized there is no healing for her. What she had always considered normal thinking about reality, she is finding out, is not how a healthy person sees things. "It was an unnecessary reality. Focusing on being a man-keeper is engrained in and out, like high aspiration. Break that cycle. From womb to tomb, man-keeping, rearing, taming, is not your job or your divine assignment. Until your inner voice speaks your truth, keep your legs closed and your heart open," I counseled. "I have moved on," she said. "I don't need him anyway. We weren't a thing. He can't be that guy. He hates me.He didn’t ask me out anyway. He ignores me.He is mean.He ghosted me.I am going to be the girl that enjoys life without a man." She responded boastfully. Few minutes later, he walked through the gate, and I saw her mood lighten up. Her cheek responded with a soft blush. She grinned from ear to ear. She looked away, avoiding eye contact. She had a small, hesitant smile that suggested she was not sure how to react. Seeing him put a smile on her face and completely flips her day around. I snorted, Love is illogical.