My Love Life: Part 2. My world moved on — quietly, and yes… | by Sheetal | Jul, 2025

Years later, after graduation, I landed a remote job. And slowly, the loneliness crept in. My team was faraway, only communicating for work via teams. I wasn’t meeting anyone new. I didn’t even have someone to call at the end of the day. I felt hollow — like I had missed out on a whole chapter of young adult life.

So, I turned to the internet.

I skipped past the usual suspects like Tinder and Bumble, and instead downloaded an app called Slowly — a platform for making pen pals around the world. You send digital letters. You collect and gift stamps. It felt romantic in an old-school way, and it made me feel like I could meet people beyond the superficial.

And I did meet someone.

We wrote letters nearly every day at first. There was an immediate spark — his words were thoughtful, his tone was curious. We soon exchanged numbers. The chats flowed. He was handsome too, and his conversations had just enough edge to keep me intrigued.

Eventually, he told me he liked me.

I liked him too — but I was cautious.

I told him everything felt too good, too fast. I wanted to take my time before saying anything serious. He said he understood.

But after that, something shifted.

Our daily messages slowed down — first to once every two days, then once in a while. Months passed. When we did talk, it was mostly about his work stress. I tried to be there for him. I even offered to send him care packages to cheer him up — but he refused, said he didn’t want anything from me. Not once, but repeatedly.

And it started to hurt. Deeply.

If he liked me, why was he pulling away?

I thought maybe I was the reason — maybe I had drawn the lines too carefully. So in a desperate attempt to salvage something that felt like it was slipping away, I confessed:

I told him I liked him. That I loved him.

There was silence on the other end.

Then, finally, he said: “You’re so irritating. I’ll give you an answer in four days.”

I waited. Four days turned into a week.

No reply.

Eventually, I came to my own conclusion.

He had never really loved me. He liked the idea of me — someone who would always listen, always be available. Maybe it was about the attention, maybe about the ego boost. Maybe even something darker — like the fact that I didn’t hand over intimacy easily. Maybe that’s what made me disposable.

So I called him. Told him it was over.

He barely responded. And that was that.