HE USED OUT MEMORIES TO FILL OUT A HINGE PROFILE!

It’s been a long time since I’ve written on this blog.
By now, this space has become a little bit like a diary — a place where I can put into words what I think, what I feel, and even the things I tend to suppress when I’m speaking out loud.

On August 4th, I wrote that I thought I had finally found my person.

Today, I realize that maybe I hadn’t found my person, but I had discovered another dimension of myself.

A version of Samanta I didn’t know existed yet.

A selfless, generous, loving Samanta — someone capable of thinking for two, understanding for two, and loving for two.

And I was ready to do it.

After three years, I was finally ready to feel something again.

And maybe that’s one of the things that hurts me the most: knowing how ready I was, how much I believed in it, and how much, despite everything, I wanted it to work.

But time reveals things.

And those feelings were actually just holograms of emotions:

something that seemed to be there, something I could almost touch, but that in reality had no substance.

I don’t want to tell this story in a way that makes me look like I did everything right and the other person did everything wrong.

I simply want to share the little lesson I learned.

Do you know what scares me the most?

It scares me how quickly some people can move from one thing to another.

How can you experience something, say certain things, create memories, and then, just a short time later, already be ready to look for someone else?

I can’t do that.

And I don’t know if I ever want to.

Because my whole world came crashing down when someone showed me those memories on a dating profile.

Putting screenshots from videos we had lived together, places we had been, habits we shared.

Pretending to be someone he isn’t.

Even making up scenarios.

And all of this after ONLY FOUR DAYS.

And the problem wasn’t seeing a profile.

It was the disappointment.

Because I had seen that person in a completely different way.

I thought he was one of the most serious and loving people I had ever met.

I thought he was someone who knew how to value things, feelings, and the moments we had shared.

And if I can give you one piece of advice: don’t trust too quickly.

Don’t immediately expose all your vulnerabilities.

Wait.

Because some people will step all over the things you trusted them with.

And maybe that’s exactly why what I saw hurt so much.

Because when someone you knew in a certain way shows you something you never imagined, you’re not only disappointed by what they are doing.

You’re also disappointed by the image you had of that person.

You start asking yourself:

“So who did I actually know?”

And that, perhaps, was the hardest part to accept.

Not the end of the relationship.

Not the fact that we both went our separate ways.

But discovering that the person I had considered so serious, so loving, so thoughtful, could experience “the aftermath” in a way that felt so far removed from the person I thought he was.

There has to be respect in life.

Respect for the people around you.

Respect for what you shared.

Respect for those few, but beautiful memories that, to me, don’t suddenly lose their value just because a relationship has ended.

It’s incredible how disconnected from reality people can become.

So damn “non-human.”

How can you say certain things, experience certain emotions, share certain moments… and then, one day later, do something completely different?

Sometimes, I almost envy it.

I envy that ability not to feel everything.

To immediately move on to the next person.

But then I stop.

And I think that maybe I don’t want to be like that.

Because I’m proud of the way I feel.

I’m proud that, even before love, what matters to me is caring about another person.

And until the very end, I tried to be there for him in the best way I knew how.

Because I knew his struggles.

I knew he had so many things to work through, so many problems, so many parts of himself he needed to confront.

And despite all of that, I was almost willing to sacrifice myself.

Not in the sense of completely losing myself, but in the sense of accepting a difficult journey.

Understanding.

Waiting.

Trying to be there.

I would have accepted that part of him too.

If he had chosen to become better.

But not better for me.

Better for himself.

Because I didn’t need him to change in order to keep me.

I wanted him to change because he himself had realized that he deserved to become a better version of who he was.

And always remember this:

you cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

You can be there.

You can understand.

You can even get to the point of putting yourself aside in an attempt to help someone you love.

But you cannot walk that path for them.

And you cannot allow yourself to be treated without even the slightest amount of respect.

That is something I had to learn.

“I was too understanding,” I told my therapist.

But she replied:

“No, you weren’t too understanding. You were just that way with the wrong person. Because when two people are both ‘healthy,’ they keep trying to find a solution.”

And if someone genuinely wants to feel better, they shouldn’t do it just to be loved by someone.

They should want to do it for themselves.

And I hope he took at least one thing with him from all of this.

I hope he still remembers my advice.

To work on himself.

To become a better person for himself.

Not for me.

Not for the next person he meets.

For himself.

Because despite everything, I don’t wish him pain.

I don’t wish for him to remain exactly the person he was.

Quite the opposite.

I genuinely hope that one day he can look back and understand that the world is not against him.

And neither am I.

Despite his behavior.

But getting back to us: where did the value go?

Because sometimes it feels like people have become a box of chocolates.

You take one, unwrap it, taste it, and if you don’t like it enough, you leave it there and immediately grab another one.

And then another.

As if you had an infinite box of people to choose from, each one newer than the last.

But a person is not a chocolate you get to taste.

They are not something you can simply spit out and replace with the next one because they no longer match what you want.

And maybe that’s what hurt me the most about seeing a Hinge profile after only four days.

It wasn’t the possibility that there might be someone else.

It was the feeling that I had been placed inside that box along with everyone else — as an option that had been tried and then discarded.

And this isn’t about love. It’s about value. It’s about basic decency.

Because you can leave someone.

You can realize that you’re no longer right for each other.

You can move on.

But that doesn’t mean everything you experienced together should immediately lose its value.

I don’t want to be someone who takes, tastes, and discards people the way others do.

And I don’t want to be someone who, after experiencing something meaningful, opens a new box just to immediately search for the next flavor.

Because people are not flavors to choose from.

They are stories.

They are memories.

They are pieces of life.

And even when a story ends, I believe a minimum amount of respect for what it was should remain.

Maybe that’s exactly the difference between me and what I’m struggling to understand today.

I can’t look at someone who was once important to me and simply think:

“I don’t like it anymore. Next.”

Because that’s not how it works for me.

And maybe it never will.

I find myself asking a lot of questions about the generation we’ve become.

A generation that seems so afraid of emptiness that it has to fill the void immediately.

A profile.

A match.

A new person.

A new login.

As if there isn’t even time anymore to sit with what happened.

But then I stop.

And I think about myself.

About the beautiful person I am.

Because I don’t hold grudges.

I don’t carry hatred.

And everything I did and said, I did because I was trying to stay true to what I felt.

That’s why I don’t want to think anymore that my “feeling too much” is a flaw.

Maybe it isn’t too much.

Maybe I’m simply made this way.

And I’m proud to be someone who feels.

Who gets attached.

Who remembers.

Who gives value to people even when their paths eventually separate.

Because I would have still been there as a friend, close to someone who, despite everything, I knew could be very lonely.

But you cannot let someone walk all over you.

“There are plenty of fish in the sea!”

Well, I don’t know.

To me, love isn’t a fishing competition.

It isn’t an immediate “login” to social media to find someone who can fill the space someone else left behind.

And so I ask myself:

What is trust for?

What is respect for?

What is love for?

What is time for?

Time to be alone.

Time to understand.

Time to process what happened.

Time to find your way back to yourself.

Maybe I’m simply a person who needs that time.

And I’m no longer ashamed of that.

Because, in the end, between feeling nothing and feeling too much, I still choose my way.

And I don’t regret having felt the way I did.

I would regret it much more if, out of fear of being hurt again, I became someone who no longer knew how to value what they had experienced.

And above all, I don’t want to become someone who grabs another chocolate from the box before even understanding why the previous one left a bitter taste in their mouth.

Because I, at least, don’t discard people.

P.S.

And honestly, at the very least, I deserved some “content creator” credits for all of this AHAHA!

The Blonde Unfiltered