It started with a message I wasn't supposed to read and a man I wasn't supposed to reply to.
The subject line said: You are beautiful, let's connect!
Normally, I'd roll my eyes. The kink platform is a crowded room of noise, men mistaking dominance for depth, flirting for conversation but something about his profile stopped me.
Not much shirtless photos, no cringey "master of souls" tagline, just words - simple, steady, almost too honest for that space. His activity feed was clean. His language, deliberate.
I told myself I wouldn't reply. I had sworn off small talk with strangers especially the kind that started with "you're beautiful" but that night, something in me was tired of being unread. So I replied.
It wasn't flirty. It wasn't brave. It was just…human and for a kink platform, that was a first as most were just seeking dynamics there. He said he wasn't looking for anything sexual, he just wanted to talk and to ask a woman's perspective on how to rekindle something he'd lost.
His ex, apparently, lived in the same town as me. Small world, cruel coincidence. He said he missed her laughter, her smile, her presence and though he didn't say her name, but I could tell he still loved her - the kind of love that lingers like perfume on an old sweater.
And maybe that's why I kept replying…..because I recognized that ache.
He said he didn't know how to start again. I told him sometimes love doesn't want to start again, it just wants to be remembered kindly.
He replied, "Then how do you stop missing someone who made the world feel less loud?"
I didn't have an answer. I just started at the screen…wondering if this was therapy or temptation wearing empathy as perfume.
Maybe both and it started on a Sunday.