Dating

Bestfriend
Hey Girl, it's me your Best Friend I know we don't talk much but I need to say a few things so sit down shut up and just Listen. The night we met you were scared out of your mind do to your current Boyfriend at that time being in one of his moods yet you saw something in me that made you feel safe a complete stranger. Funny looking back it makes me smile; you had a black eye from where you told me you ran into something but I knew you were lying, I offered a safe haven at my stepmoms place, I blew off my probation meeting risking jail time to make sure you were safe.
By Dragon Matthew Wood - Hillmanabout a year ago in Confessions
Top 10 Legit New Zealand Dating Sites and Apps for 2025
In New Zealand, where rugged landscapes meet laid-back Kiwi charm, dating in 2025 is an adventure of heart and connection. From Auckland’s vibrant cafes to the serene shores of Dunedin, Kiwis are embracing online platforms to find love, friendship, or casual flickers that reflect their adventurous yet grounded spirit. Amid a digital world cluttered with fleeting swipes and fake profiles, New Zealand Dating shines as a fast-growing, trusted platform, offering verified profiles, robust safety features, and a Kiwi-focused approach to flicker genuine connections. With a 4.8-star rating and a surge in users across Wellington and Christchurch, it’s a go-to for locals and expats alike. This 5,000-word guide dives into the top 10 legit New Zealand dating sites and apps for 2025, explores Kiwi dating culture, and shares tips to navigate the journey to love with confidence and authenticity.
By Olivia Smithabout a year ago in Confessions
"I Lied, I Loved, I Let Go: A Confession Years in the Making"
Introduction: The Weight of an Unspoken Truth Some truths are not easy to tell. They sit in the heart like stones, heavy and unmoving. We carry them for years, hoping time will lighten the load. But it doesn’t. Instead, they grow heavier with silence. This is a story about one of those truths — a confession I’ve carried for too long. It is about a lie that changed everything, a love that felt real and raw, and the painful yet necessary act of letting go. Writing this is not about seeking forgiveness. It’s about finally finding freedom.
By Idea hiveabout a year ago in Confessions
My Maid of Honor Slept with My Fiancé
Weddings are supposed to be the happiest day of your life. I spent two years preparing for mine—carefully planning every detail. The flowers. The playlist. The dress. And most importantly, who would stand beside me: my best friend since fifth grade, Amanda, as my maid of honor.
By Kevinabout a year ago in Confessions
God's Lessons
Sometimes what you think you want and what you need are two different things. Saying goodbye is never easy. Moving on is never simple. To let someone into the deepest parts of your soul only to eventually let them go is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to repeatedly do. It’s never the same. It never gets easier. It hurts. Even when you think that the ties are severed, only when all is lost do you realize how much you still have left to let go. The pain can be unbearable but the tears will dry and the agony will subside.
By Tiffiney Cornishabout a year ago in Confessions
“When Silence Echoes Between Us”
It’s strange how, after all this time, my mind still drifts back to you. Not daily. Not intensely. But enough to make me stop and wonder: Why now? Why still? By any logic, I shouldn’t be having these feelings. We haven't spoken in well over a year. We parted ways on terms so fractured that it was almost a relief to stop trying. And yet, here I am — remembering. Our last words weren’t exactly kind. If anything, they were laced with exhaustion. Not rage. Just a tired sort of detachment that signaled we had finally run out of fuel. And maybe, that was for the best. Still, some part of me replays those days. Quietly. Without meaning to. I know I’m better off. That much is clear. What we had — if it can even be called that — wasn’t healthy. Our connection was riddled with chaos, unspoken power games, and a constant undercurrent of discomfort. There was always this sense that I was walking on a ledge. One misstep, and I’d fall into an argument, a cold shoulder, or worse — silence. You always had more power. More influence. More say. Even when I spoke up, it felt like speaking into a tunnel where my words returned to me distorted and hollow. I gave too much. You took too easily. And no, you didn’t abuse me. But you didn’t respect boundaries either. Trust was a weapon in your hands. You never held it with care. The very things I confided in you — the vulnerable, trembling pieces of my inner world — were thrown back at me during disagreements. Used as reminders of my weaknesses. I remember the early days. It took less than a week for warning signs to show. Little things. Thoughtlessness. Inconsistencies. A coolness when I needed warmth. I ignored them — as we so often do when we want something to work. When we believe someone could be good for us. Red flags followed. Slowly. Surely. I started to see how little you actually listened. How you made everything a transaction. I called you out, but I didn’t let go. I should have. But I didn’t. Looking back now, I stayed far past the expiration date. By the time I walked away, it was no longer a decision — it was survival. You had taken up too much space in my mind. You weren’t actively there anymore, but your shadow lingered. The damage had already been done. But here's the part I don’t want to admit: I still think about you. It’s not longing. It’s not even regret. It’s… a weird, quiet ache. A part of me misses how bizarre and unpredictable our bond was. Like something you know you shouldn't touch, but you do anyway — just to feel something. There were moments, rare and fleeting, where our conversations felt electric. Where I could pretend, even briefly, that we had something special. That’s the part that haunts me. Sometimes, I wonder if we’ll ever run into each other again. Not dramatically. Not fate-driven. Just… maybe, someday. At a coffee shop. Or in some corner of the internet. Will we say anything? Will we look away? Will there be silence or a nod? I’ve checked your profiles. Not often. Just sometimes. I’ve seen traces of myself — my words, my creations — echoed there. Not always kindly. Sometimes, mockingly. But you didn’t forget me. That much is clear. I doubt you think about me as much as I think about you. You have your own world now. New pursuits. New responsibilities. A life far removed from our old connection. And that’s good. You needed it. I needed it too. But if we ever cross paths again, I won’t be the same. I won’t shrink myself for your comfort. I won’t try to please. I won’t hand over trust without reason. I’ve learned — painfully, deeply — how to hold myself with more care. I’m not waiting. I’m not hoping. But I’m not denying either. The past doesn’t disappear. It lingers. It echoes. This isn’t a plea. It’s not an open door. It’s just an acknowledgment. Of something that once was. Of someone I once knew. Of a version of me that existed in your presence — and had to leave to survive.
By Saeed Ullah about a year ago in Confessions
The Fear of Saying How You Feel
You want to tell your partner how you feel about them, but you end up staring at a blank screen for so long you give up. Or you try a few lines only to delete them all and start over. Again. Why is it so hard to tell the loved one in our life exactly what they mean to us? Do you struggle to find the words to properly convey how you feel? Or is it that you just can’t explain it? Don’t let words get in the way of telling your loved one how much they mean to you.
By LaMarion Zieglerabout a year ago in Confessions
Confessions of a Hopeless Love
June 5th We are friends now. We will hang out in Stephen’s living room almost every night this summer. And last summer. We sit on opposite sides of the room and share the occasional laugh and small conversation. I don’t know how to tell you that I try to avoid your gaze. It hurts too much to look in your eyes and know that they will never look back at me the way they used to. I don’t know how to hug you goodbye without giving it away that I never want to let go.
By twenty-somethingabout a year ago in Confessions
I Loved Him, But Life Didn’t Make It Easy. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
People always say love conquers all. That if two people truly care, nothing can break them apart. But no one tells you about the battles you have to fight before love even has a chance to survive. The nights you stay awake, wondering if you made the right choice. The mornings you wake up wondering if there’s still hope. The crushing weight of life that threatens to pull everything under. I met Jake when I was 19. He was the kind of guy who walked into a room and owned it. Confident, loud, reckless — everything I wasn’t. I was a quiet girl from a broken home, raised by a single mom who worked two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. I kept to myself mostly, afraid of making waves or getting hurt. But Jake? Jake was like a wildfire. And somehow, he ignited something inside me I didn’t even know was there. We fell hard, and fast. I remember that first summer we spent together — endless nights lying under the stars, talking about our dreams, our fears, our future. He told me I was the smartest girl he’d ever met. I believed him because he looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered. But love — real love — isn’t a fairytale. Not ours. --- Jake worked two jobs to keep us afloat: days at a warehouse, nights bartending. I was in community college, juggling classes, and waitressing shifts that paid just enough to keep food on the table. We lived in a tiny apartment where the walls were paper thin, and the rent was too damn high. Money was always tight. Tensions were tight. The cracks started to show when Jake got laid off from the warehouse. One day he came home, the look on his face heavier than the backpack full of bills he dropped on the kitchen table. I wanted to help. I tried to be his rock. But Jake shut down — angry and distant. Sometimes, he’d scream at me for no reason. Sometimes, he’d disappear for hours, drinking at the bar with friends I barely knew. The man I loved was slipping through my fingers. --- I tried to hold us together. I took more shifts at the diner, skipping classes. I told myself it was temporary. That things would get better. But every night I cried silently on our tiny couch, wondering if this was the life I was meant to have. One night, after a long day of school and work, Jake snapped. The smallest disagreement blew into a fight. He yelled, called me names, blamed me for everything — for his job loss, for our money problems, for his anger. I wanted to run. But where? --- Our love was breaking. But we held on. Because giving up felt like admitting defeat. --- There were moments of hope, like little sparks in the dark. Like the time Jake surprised me with a picnic in the park. He grilled hot dogs on a tiny charcoal stove, his face glowing in the golden sunset. We laughed. For a few hours, it felt like we were those kids dreaming of forever. Or when I won a scholarship that could pay for my last year of college. I told Jake, and for the first time in months, he smiled — real and wide. But reality kept pulling us down. The bills didn’t stop, the fights didn’t stop, the doubts didn’t stop. --- Then, one day, Jake didn’t come home. His phone went straight to voicemail. I called his friends and family — no one had seen him. Panic clawed its way into my chest. I searched the places he used to go — the bars, the park, even the old pier by the river. Finally, I found him at a homeless shelter, shivering in a corner, broken. --- Addiction had taken hold. The man who promised me forever was drowning himself in bottles and pills. I held him as he cried for the first time I’d ever seen. Promised I wouldn’t leave. But the road back was harder than I imagined. --- We fought more than we loved. Anger and pain filled the spaces where love should have lived. I wanted to give up. I wanted to scream and run and forget. But every time I looked at Jake’s trembling hands, I remembered the boy who made me feel alive. So I stayed. --- Through rehab appointments, late-night talks, relapses, and tiny victories. Love became survival. --- Three years later, Jake’s sober. I finally graduated with my degree. We still carry scars — some fresh, some faded — but we’re healing. --- If I could talk to my younger self, I’d say this: Love isn’t perfect. Life isn’t perfect. But the fight — the struggle to hold on even when everything feels impossible — that’s what makes it worth it. --- I’m not sharing this for pity or to play the victim. I’m sharing because real love isn’t a fairy tale. It’s messy. It’s painful. It’s full of broken pieces you have to glue back together. But if you’re fighting your own battles, know this: You’re not alone. And maybe, just maybe, love is strong enough to survive the worst. --- Thank you for reading my story. If it helps just one person, it’s worth every word.
By Vizio about a year ago in Confessions
How to Eliminate Bad Odors in Your Home
Unpleasant odors in the home can be a persistent nuisance, affecting comfort and creating an unwelcoming environment. Whether caused by cooking, pets, mold, or other sources, bad smells can linger if not addressed properly. Fortunately, there are numerous effective methods to eliminate and prevent bad odors, ensuring your home remains fresh and inviting. This article explores practical, science-backed strategies to tackle household odors, ranging from natural remedies to advanced tools, offering a comprehensive guide to maintaining a pleasant indoor atmosphere.
By handy maneshonabout a year ago in Confessions
The Last Bus Home
The rain was unapologetic that evening — slapping against the windows of the Karachi city bus like impatient fingers. I sat by the back window, headphones in, the world drowned in a sad old Mehdi Hassan ghazal that had nothing to do with love, yet everything to do with loneliness. The number 7C bus always smelled of damp metal, faded sweat, and cheap coconut oil, but that night, it carried something else. Something different.
By Farooq shahabout a year ago in Confessions
THE Awakening
Continuation of the series Shadow of Love This is the story of those who believed—believed that love could heal, transform, and conquer all. Those who gave endlessly, hoping their warmth would melt even the coldest heart. Who stayed, forgave, and tried—thinking that love alone could rewrite the story. But in the end, were left with empty hands…and a heart full of lessons.
By Saffron Realmabout a year ago in Confessions