My clarity is not the problem.

I didn’t ask for a relationship. I asked for respect.

What do you do at 5:00 a.m. on a Wednesday before going to work? I talk about love with my therapist.

Here we are. My second 5 a.m. chat with my therapist. Sixty minutes of pure quality. Today’s topic was one big one, with a clear example: romantic connection.

And I want to be very specific. I want to speak from the heart. Because this blog is mine. And in here, there’s me. UNFILTERED.

After four years of zero dating, I’ve been seeing someone for a month. A month, for me, is a lot. It’s an investment, it’s energy, it’s presence. Then this happens: after a beautiful evening and night together, in less than five hours, everything ends.

The reason? A joke that brought up the topic of exclusivity.

Now.

Apart from the fact that in my head it works like this: if I meet someone, I know them. If it doesn’t work out, then eventually you move on to someone else.

But no.

For the other person, exclusivity wasn’t assumed. In fact, basically, I would have been almost justified if in the meantime I had gone out with others. Because there had been no explicit agreement.

Even though, in their words, they saw and felt only me.

But how is it possible that in 2026 these discussions still exist?

Do I need to sign a contract? If you don’t officially declare something, even if the other behaves like a partner, is there still a risk they’re seeing other people?

What kind of world is this?

No one asked for a relationship. We were talking about getting to know each other. But now you can’t even get to know someone peacefully without the doubt that there are five thousand other options open.

Maybe yes, I’m attached to values.

If I choose to get to know someone, I respect them. Because I’m giving them my time. My energy. My attention. Because I think it might be worth it.

And today it almost feels like opening up is dangerous. You say something clear → it shuts down.

It’s crazy.

I didn’t ask for a relationship – I wouldn’t be ready. I asked for clarity. To focus on one person while getting to know them.

Because ambiguity cannot be part of Samanta’s life.

My psychologist says something strong: I often choose men who are “weaker” than me. People who struggle when faced with clarity.

And maybe always finding this pattern is a form of self-sabotage.

But my paranoia, which kept me from understanding, I asked my therapist: “This person did so much for me, concrete things, real actions. And that’s also why I liked them. We did so many fun things together, and there was really a connection—friendship and fun as well as passion and chemistry. But is it possible that they didn’t have the decency to address it face to face?”

And at that point, the sentence that opened a whole world for me arrived.

The gestures someone makes for you could just be a script. A strategy that person uses with anyone.

BOOM.

And you know another truth? In a month, it’s still possible to hide the real absence.

I fell from the clouds. But strangely, I also felt less suffocated.

Because I realized something huge: people aren’t you. They don’t think like you. They don’t love like you.

Connection doesn’t happen magically. The perfect match doesn’t exist.

What exists is the willingness to commit, to communicate, to find an agreement.

And anyone who isn’t willing to do that cannot be part of your life. Ambiguity cannot exist.

Today I felt understood. And even if I’ll have to take a few more steps in relationships, my clarity – even if it can scare – remains a value.

This time I didn’t make a mistake. Communicating doesn’t mean arguing. It means wanting to understand and be understood. BUT there’s nothing to explain to someone who, with a breath of wind, creates a storm.

And we ended the call with a simple sentence:

Whoever truly wants you, doesn’t leave.

And I, honestly, am happy to have felt emotions after so long. Emotions that don’t depend on others, but on myself.

Because if today I felt, if today I experienced, if today I exposed myself… it’s because I’m alive, because I stopped running, because I decided to take a risk.

I’m not angry with this person. Maybe surprised. Maybe disappointed by the bad ending. But disappointment doesn’t erase what I did.

I opened up. I spoke. I asked for clarity. I put my heart into it.

And that, no matter what, is a victory.

I’m grateful for these moments. And I’m immensely proud of myself: after four years, I found the strength to come out of my shell.

The truth? The easiest thing would have been to close up again. To say: “Never again.” To freeze my emotions and return to control.

But I don’t want to just survive anymore. I want to live.

If old Sam would have hidden after this fall, the new Sam stands. Maybe with scraped knees, but standing.

Because every time I choose clarity, I choose myself. Every time I take a risk, I become stronger. Every time someone leaves, I make space for those who know how to stay.

So?

Forward, march. Always.

And now, homework for next week:

👉 What is Samanta afraid of when it comes to love?

I’ll make the list. And I’ll tell you about it next time.

The blonde unfiltered