I wrote about three encounters that changed how I see love, connection, and the stories we tell ourselves about both.

There’s a specific kind of tired that comes from modern dating. Not from the dates themselves, but from the pressure to make every single one mean something. To know, quickly, if it’s going somewhere. To optimize, filter, and decide before anything has had the chance to actually breathe.

I’ve been thinking about why that exhausts us. And I keep coming back to the same thing: we’ve turned dating into a goal when it used to be an adventure.

Three stories have been living in my head lately. They happened across different places and different seasons of my life, but they taught me the same thing about what it actually means to let something unfold.

Story One: The Fireworks

I once dated someone who felt electric.

The connection was instant. We could talk for hours. The chemistry was undeniable. He was traveling, and for months, it felt like we were living inside Before Sunrise movie, doing everything a couple of one to two years would do, compressed into a fever dream of late nights and long conversations.

It was all fireworks.

But clarity? That was missing.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted. His effort fluctuated. Some days he was all in. Other days, distant. And I kept showing up anyway, not because it felt right, but because it felt alive.

It took me a while to name what was actually happening: I wasn’t choosing alignment. I was choosing adrenaline.

Here’s something I’ve come to believe: the right person at the wrong time is the wrong person. Not because love isn’t real. But because a person isn’t just a feeling. They’re also a readiness, a timing, a life that either makes room for you or doesn’t. I had been treating the spark as proof of something. But a spark isn’t a foundation. And all that heat became stale. Quickly.

I had to ask myself a harder question: do I want a spark, or do I want a story worth living in?

Story Two: The Beginner Court

A friend invited me to join a beach tennis club in Singapore she was organizing. I didn’t know how to play beach tennis. I was just curious. Beach tennis, for the uninitiated, is literally tennis on the beach. The ball can’t touch the ground, it’s fast-paced, sweaty, and deeply unforgiving of beginners.

Guess what I was.

But the moment I arrived, I saw him.

Tall. Athletic. Effortlessly composed. The kind of handsome that doesn’t try.

He was on the advanced court, moving with the quiet confidence of someone who actually knew what he was doing. Tennis wasn’t just a random try-it-once activity for him, it was his thing.

And that’s when the anticipation started. Every weekend, I showed up without a plan. No expectations. No mental script about where it “should” go. Just curiosity. I’d spot him across the court and think, Okay… let’s see.

Weeks passed. I was still very much a beginner, I was actually stuck there haha.

Then one afternoon, I saw him fixing a net after a game. And this is the part I want you to understand: I walked over. Pretended to help. Yes, slight acting, slight strategy, slight kapal ng mukha. I overheard him and his friends talking about Formula 1. They were planning to attend. I was going too but not for the race but for a concert. So I inserted myself into the conversation.

“Hey, I’m going too.”

No overthinking. No waiting for the perfect moment. I told him we should hang out and gave him my number.

Bold? Yes. Desperate? No. Calculated courage? Absolutely.

The day of the event, he messaged me, then had to leave suddenly for a business trip. And I thought: Ah. Okay. Fun while it lasted. End of story.

Weeks of silence.

Then a message. He was back from Germany. He wanted to catch up.

And that’s exactly what it became. A real adventure. The kind you can’t plan for, can’t swipe your way into, and definitely can’t rush. It didn’t feel like dating. It felt like watching something slowly take shape.

We caught up. And what followed was one of those connections that reminds you why showing up matters, why curiosity is always worth it, why the best stories rarely begin the way you expect.

I genuinely thought we wouldn’t become anything. Different levels, different pacing, different worlds. But the reason this story is worth telling isn’t just because of what we became.

It’s because I showed up without a script and let it surprise me. No outcome to protect. No pressure to define it. Just the quiet thrill of something unfolding in real time.

Story Three: The One I Almost Missed

Back in the Philippines, I met someone who worked in the same building.

We started seeing each other. He was engaging, undeniably cute, and refreshingly clear about what he wanted. But by that point I’d been so used to fast connections, to skipping the slow part and just seeing where the chemistry landed physically, that I wasn’t really looking to get to know him. I wanted the shortcut. The easy, uncomplicated version of connection – get in, feel something, leave before it gets complicated.

He wasn’t that kind of guy.

And honestly? I was a little thrown off by that. I didn’t know what to do with someone who didn’t play along with the pace I’d set. So I stepped back. And in that space, something unexpected happened. I actually started to see him. Not as a possibility to chase or a situation to manage, but as a person.Someone genuinely worth knowing.

We became friends. The real kind. And I realized I almost walked away from one of the people I now know I’ll carry for a long time, not because the connection wasn’t there, but because I was moving too fast to notice it.

That one stung a little. In the best way.
Because it made me ask: how many times had I done that? Decided what something was before it had the chance to show me?

Many people now turn to dating apps to find love. And yes, I know couples who met there and built real relationships. But it’s not the only way to meet someone.

If you use them, do so with intention. At the same time, don’t limit yourself to that space. Connection can happen anywhere.

Dating apps are built around a goal. You have a result to maximize. Every feature nudges you toward efficiency, toward finding the outcome faster, filtering out the uncertainty, skipping the part where you don’t know yet.
But the beach tennis story couldn’t have been optimized. There was no filter for “man on advanced court, you on beginner court, net as meet-cute.” The algorithm would have skipped him entirely.

And the fireworks story, the one that looked perfect, had all the signals. But what no app could tell me was that I was choosing adrenaline over alignment. That intensity isn’t intimacy. That a great connection at the wrong time, with the wrong readiness, is still the wrong connection.

Here’s the other thing I’ve been sitting with: when you surround yourself with love from friends, family, and community, you stop arriving at dates as someone auditioning for rescue. Your partner stops needing to be everything. They become an addition, not a compensation.

That’s what the beginner court story gave me. I wasn’t there looking for someone to complete me. I was curious. I was trying something new. I was embarrassing myself and laughing about it. And because of that openness, something unfolded.

What I Know Now

I’m not looking to “settle.” I’m ready to choose, intentionally.

Not out of pressure. Not because of age. Not because being single isn’t good enough. But because I now understand the difference between dating for attention and choosing for alignment. Shared values over shared vibes. Stability over excitement. Depth over distraction.

And I’ve stopped expecting love to be clean. Relationships aren’t math equations. They don’t give you 0 or 1. Most of the time, you’re standing somewhere in between, and you have to decide what you’re willing to tolerate, grow through, or walk away from. That’s not a failure of the relationship. That’s just the reality of choosing another human being.

Growth gave me independence. Maturity is teaching me commitment.

And this time, if I choose someone, it won’t be because I need them. It will be because they fit the life I’ve built, the full, free, entirely mine life that started with a quiet promise to myself a few years ago.

So here’s what I want to leave you with:
Organic doesn’t mean passive. It doesn’t mean waiting for fate to deliver someone to your door. It means putting yourself in rooms where something can happen, and being present enough to notice when it does. Show up. Try the thing you don’t know how to do yet. Pretend to fix the net. Join the conversation about Formula 1. Give your number with steady hands.

And then let go of the timeline.
Beginner court ka man ngayon, you never know who’s watching from the advanced side.

And sometimes, like the guy I almost reduced to a situationship, the most meaningful connection isn’t the one that starts with a spark. It’s the one you almost missed because you were too busy looking for one. 😉

Have you ever had a connection that unfolded slowly and surprised you, or found yourself choosing adrenaline over alignment? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.

Love,

Maria, sometimes, Niskie