It starts with admiration.
She sees him—the good man.
Kind.
Considerate.
Unlike the others who came before.
Kind.
Considerate.
Unlike the others who came before.
He listens.
He gives.
He never asks for too much.
He gives.
He never asks for too much.
He sees her—the powerful woman.
Magnetic.
Fierce.
A force that stands tall and unwavering.
Magnetic.
Fierce.
A force that stands tall and unwavering.
She has built herself from the ashes, refusing to be dependent, refusing to break.
And in the beginning, it works.
He loves how strong she is, how she doesn’t need him, how she commands space without effort.
She loves how safe he is, how steady, how much easier it is to be with him than the ones before.
She loves how safe he is, how steady, how much easier it is to be with him than the ones before.
No chaos. No wounds tearing each other apart.
Just peace.
Just peace.
But peace is not what keeps a fire alive.
The Slow Unraveling
Something shifts.
She notices his softness is not depth—it is hesitation.
He notices her strength is not openness—it is armor.
He notices her strength is not openness—it is armor.
She waits for him to take her—he waits for her to invite him in.
She secretly longs for his weight, his gravity, his spine—but he is too careful, too considerate, too nice.
He secretly longs for her surrender, for her trust—but she has made it clear she will not be owned.
She secretly longs for his weight, his gravity, his spine—but he is too careful, too considerate, too nice.
He secretly longs for her surrender, for her trust—but she has made it clear she will not be owned.
And so, they settle into false safety, mistaking it for love.
Until one night, as she lies next to him, she realizes she feels nothing.
Not rage.
Not desire.
Not irritation.
Just… absence.
Not desire.
Not irritation.
Just… absence.
Because he has disappeared into trying to be what she wants, rather than standing as who he is.
And he feels it too.
That dull ache of invisibility.
The resentment of a man who has softened himself too much—who has confused approval for connection.
That dull ache of invisibility.
The resentment of a man who has softened himself too much—who has confused approval for connection.
But it is too late.
The fire is gone.
The fire is gone.
🔥 Because a woman cannot surrender to a man who seeks permission to lead.
🔥 Because a man cannot claim a woman who will not trust him to hold her.
🔥 Because a man cannot claim a woman who will not trust him to hold her.
And so, they drift.
She will say, I just didn’t feel the spark anymore.
He will say, I did everything right, and it still wasn’t enough.
He will say, I did everything right, and it still wasn’t enough.
And neither will see the truth:
They did not lose attraction.
They killed it.
They did not lose attraction.
They killed it.
They avoided the discomfort of real polarity.
They feared tension, the charge, the undeniable pull of the masculine meeting the feminine in its full, unrelenting depth.
They feared tension, the charge, the undeniable pull of the masculine meeting the feminine in its full, unrelenting depth.
She wanted to surrender but wouldn’t let herself.
He wanted to lead but was too afraid to take the risk.
He wanted to lead but was too afraid to take the risk.
And without that risk, love never touches the fire.
The Truth About Polarity
🔥 A man who waits for approval will never be trusted.
🔥 A woman who refuses to be felt will never be desired.
🔥 A woman who refuses to be felt will never be desired.
Polarity is not something you manufacture.
It is who you are when you stop hiding.
It is who you are when you stop hiding.
You want her to melt?
Stop asking for permission to stand in your full weight.
Stop asking for permission to stand in your full weight.
You want him to lead?
Show him the depth of your heart, not the strength of your walls.
Show him the depth of your heart, not the strength of your walls.
Either you ignite the fire,
or you spend your life watching it die.
🔥
or you spend your life watching it die.
🔥
(Borrowed from a friend)
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