De ce dating-ul modern este o pierdere de timp

Cand eram in scoala generala si in liceu citeam adesea reviste pentru adolescenti (de ex. Bravo, Cool Girl, Cosmopolitan) Intr-una din aceste reviste am descoperit un articol despre trei femei care povesteau cum este sa fii necasatorita la 30 de ani. Primul meu instinct a fost ca imi citesc viitorul si se pare ca am avut dreptate.

Articolul m-a impresionat deoarece credeam ca fiecare femeie isi are sortitul, ca este necesar ca o femeie sa fie intr-o casnicie, sa aibe o familie si cel putin un copil. Insa nu imi doream asta pentru mine, imi doream sa fiu mai mult de atat, sa am propriile mele aventuri precum Xena. In acelasi timp nci nu ma gandeam ca vreau sa fiu mereu singura.

De-a lungul anilor am trecut de la telefonul fix si mirc in internet cafe-uri la a fi mereu conectata la internet prin telefonul mobil si multiple site-uri de dating precum facebook dating sau tinder.

Din 2014 pana in prezent am intalnit in mod organic doar 2 persoane - restul celor cu care am iesit au fost intalnite prin intermediul platformelor de socalizare.

In luna ianurie a acestui an am decis sa renunt la dating per se dar in trecutul apropiat am decis a incerc facebook dating in speranta ca ma voi razgandi. Personal as prefera sa intalnesc pe cineva in mod organic - dar datingul modern este mai degraba digital.

Am observat in timp (perioada 2019-2021) ca desi sunt multe platforme oamenii sunt aceeasi si rareori am intalnit persoane cu care sa am o conversatie de la cap la coada si apoi sa si ies efectiv la o intalnire. Si din acele intalniri nici una nu a rezultat in relatie pe termen lung.

Datingul digital este mai degraba un joc de noroc, adesea conversatiile sunt banale, plictisitoare sau pur si simplu lipsite de respect. Cele care sunt cat de cat decente au fost fie scurte fie pe o perioada scurta de timp.

In acelasi timp ma amuz de mesajele pe care le primesc, mentionez ca nu sunt de la persoane cu care am "match" si am la profil ca sunt interesata doar de ceva de lunga durata, dar mare este gradina Domnului.

Jurnal de calatorie

Decizia de a revizita Brașovul a fost una spontana. Mi-am luat concediu, am rezervat cazarea prin booking.com si am mers cu trenul. Am calatorit singura pentru ca imi doream sa fac ceva diferit si a fost una din cele mai bune decizii luate in acest an.

What dreams are made of

I was under the influence of pain since I was a child. My only escape was dreaming. In my dreams, I had lived the life of others. I had felt their desires, their fears, and their deaths.

I spend many hours walking the hallways of my memories. I can feel myself fading into oblivion. I am no longer feeling grounded in reality.

The ballroom is in shambles. The tables are full of broken glasses of wine; there are empty bottles everywhere. The ceiling collapsed, there is debris in the room.

And there I am, hanging on the chandelier, smoking and swinging with my mascara running and feeling empty. So I open the first door – Love. I always loved love. I love the concept; I adore the feeling of being in awe. I love to give every inch to myself with the sole purpose of bringing joy and serenity. But love is ever fading. No feeling is final.

With loneliness comes the misery and heartache, the feeling of being rejected and abandoned still all feelings come and go.

The door is open. I find myself on a cruise ship surrounded by guests attending an engagement party- my engagement party. And I have the sense of a new start with someone better. And then I see him – the one that got away urging me to listen to his warnings that I am in danger. And I do so. I follow the advice and end the engagement because I want to feel safe and loved.

I soon realize that it was never real love. And I am about to be murdered. So I wake up. My choices aren't mine; what I wished and hoped for was just an illusion.

I close the door and choose the next one - Travel. And I wake up on a beach, on a warm summer day. There are plenty of kiosks and a lot of tourists. I look at the sky, and I see this giant alien skeleton head. It meant no harm and died without opposing any force. All the kiosks were selling small trinkets and celebrating the day they died. It appalled me to my core - monetization at its finest. Everything can be sold and monetized, even injustice.

The next-door leads me to Ego. I am leaving a birthday party as I am on my way home. Night turns to day, winter turns into a mellow spring. I am outside and look at myself in a mirror when I realize I am somebody else. I am using somebody's love as a tool. I have everything I wanted for yet I am shallow and empty. I am a husk of a human being.

So the next door I choose is death. I am sleeping in an old military camp, on an old rusty bed with the blanket covering my face. I have failed my mission. I beg for mercy while someone is pouring water. I can feel myself drowning, so I wake up. I want to live.

I escape onto the fantasy door. I am an eager, passionate journalist. I just found the story that will propel my career. I will not miss the chance to see it unfold even though I know it is dangerous. The area is limited to members only.

Once you enter it and stay through the night, you are trapped. So I decide to go. I take my crew, put on my best clothes, and even if I don't belong, I fit in. Time is running out of essence, and I am seconds away from losing my freedom. I get everyone out except for me. I get to live an eternity in complete bliss, harmony, and joy. However, the only thing I can think of is how is wanting out.

Everything has a cost – regardless of how perfect it may seem.

I find a secret passageway and find myself on the beach looking at the lagoon. The palace is collapsing - I feel free. I can start again and build another one. My dreams are my own.