advice
Dating, married, single, divorced, and more. Advice on the relationships you have in life. Dear, Humans..
Innovative Approaches to Improving your Adult Dating Life
Two people engaging in sexual encounters without any romantic or dating commitments can be called a hookup. The two consenting adults could be friends or even strangers meeting on an online dating app. The important part of a hookup relationship is that there is no commitment to the relationship on either side.
By Alice Naraaabout a year ago in Humans
"My failure to freedom :my journey'. AI-Generated.
Freedom. It’s a word we all dream about, fight for, and chase. For me, freedom was the sweetest taste of life — the moment when I felt I was finally in charge of my own destiny. I was young, ambitious, and filled with fire. I no longer wanted to be tied down by rules, expectations, or the voices of others telling me what I should or should not do. When I stepped out into the world with nothing but my dreams, it felt like stepping into endless skies. I believed freedom meant I could do whatever I wanted, live however I pleased, and ignore the consequences. After all, wasn’t that the meaning of being truly free? But as I would later learn, freedom is not just about breaking chains; it is also about carrying the weight of responsibility. --- The First Steps into Independence The first days of independence were magical. I could wake up when I wanted, go where I pleased, and make choices that belonged only to me. For the first time in my life, I felt like the author of my story. I chased opportunities with a burning passion. I took jobs without hesitation, started projects I barely understood, and surrounded myself with people who promised me easy success. Every day felt like an adventure, every mistake felt like a lesson, and every risk felt like proof that I was alive. But the problem was that I was living without balance. I mistook recklessness for courage, and carelessness for confidence. I thought freedom gave me wings, but I forgot that even wings need direction — otherwise you just fly in circles until you fall. --- The Subtle Descent into Failure Failure does not announce itself with loud drums. It creeps in slowly, like shadows at sunset. At first, it was small mistakes: missed deadlines, careless spending, broken promises to myself. I ignored them, telling myself, “This is part of the journey. Everyone makes mistakes.” But soon, the mistakes became heavier. My savings began to vanish faster than I earned. Opportunities slipped through my fingers because I lacked discipline. I started surrounding myself with the wrong people — those who drained my energy instead of lifting me higher. One by one, the walls of my “freedom” began to collapse. What once felt like a wide-open sky slowly turned into a cage of my own making. --- The Rock Bottom Moment Every story of failure has a breaking point — mine came one night when I found myself sitting alone in an empty room. The room was quiet, but inside me there was a storm. I looked around: no friends, no opportunities, no direction. The fire I once carried had turned into ashes. That was when the truth hit me harder than ever: I had mistaken freedom for carelessness, and the result was failure. I had thought freedom meant having no rules. But real freedom, I realized, is about having the wisdom to govern yourself. Without discipline, freedom is not a gift — it’s a trap that leads you straight to downfall. --- The Lessons Failure Taught Me It took losing everything to understand what I had been blind to. Failure became my greatest teacher, teaching me lessons no success could have ever shown. 1. Freedom without responsibility is destruction. You can only enjoy independence if you are wise enough to handle its weight. 2. Dreams need discipline. Wishing for success is easy, but building it requires structure, effort, and patience. 3. Not every friend is a true companion. Some people are there to enjoy your rise, but they vanish in your fall. Choose wisely. 4. Failure is not the end. It is a mirror that shows you your flaws and pushes you to grow stronger. These lessons were bitter at first, but in time, they became the foundation of a new version of myself. --- The Rebuilding Phase After failure, rebuilding felt like climbing a mountain barefoot. Every step was painful, but I knew the only way out was forward. I started with small actions. I woke up early, even when I had nowhere to go. I saved little amounts of money, even when it seemed pointless. I surrounded myself with people who inspired me instead of those who drained me. I learned to be patient, to plan, and to forgive myself for my past. Slowly, I began to realize that the real strength of freedom lies not in living without rules, but in creating rules for yourself that guide you to growth. --- The Moral of the Journey Now, when I look back on my journey from freedom to failure, I do not see it as a tragedy. I see it as a necessary chapter of my life. Because failure taught me what freedom really means. It showed me that: Freedom is not the absence of responsibility; it is the mastery of it. Failure is not your enemy; it is your greatest teacher. The strongest people are not those who never fall, but those who rise after falling. --- A New Dawn Today, I stand not as someone broken by failure, but as someone shaped by it. My freedom now is different from before — it is not wild, reckless, or careless. It is grounded, steady, and purposeful. I live with discipline, I make choices with wisdom, and I carry responsibility with pride. My journey from freedom to failure has transformed me into someone stronger, someone wiser, and someone more prepared for the future. --- Final Thought If you are on your journey, chasing freedom, remember this: do not run from failure. Welcome it, learn from it, and rise because of it. True freedom is not in doing whatever you want. True freedom is in shaping your life with courage, wisdom, and responsibility. And sometimes, you must pass through failure to truly understand what freedom really is.
By Ihtisham Ulhaqabout a year ago in Humans
Zulekha’s Choice: When Healing Becomes a Transaction
Zulekha had always been a woman of quiet dignity. At 56, she carried herself with grace — a widow living alone in a two-room home in Lahore, supported only by a small government pension and the occasional kindness of neighbors. Her husband had passed away a decade earlier, and her two sons had moved abroad, caught up in their own lives.
By Shehzad Anjumabout a year ago in Humans
Holding it Together at Work – Should We?
When Rachel Reeves cried in Parliament this week, it wasn’t a political moment. It was a human one. It was the visible cracking of a nervous system under immense pressure — and it hit a nerve with so many of us because we’ve been there. We’ve held it in until we couldn’t. We’ve broken in private. And sometimes, we’ve broken in public.
By Bianca Bestabout a year ago in Humans
Cancer Woman and Cancer Man Compatibility Score. AI-Generated.
When two Cancers come together, the result is a relationship filled with tenderness, emotional connection, and deep loyalty. Both are ruled by the Moon, which governs emotions, intuition, and nurturing instincts. This makes their bond incredibly powerful, as they understand each other’s needs and moods on a level that few other zodiac pairings can achieve.
By Inspire and Funabout a year ago in Humans
"Shadows on Nicholson Road. AI-Generated.
At a bend in the road, several stray dogs appeared suddenly, barking loudly. Durrani’s heart sank as he looked ahead. A shadow moved in the bright light of his car’s headlights. From the darkness, a human figure emerged, hunched and in pain. The car jerked violently, colliding with an electric pole. Durrani sat frozen at the wheel for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Slowly, he stepped out, trembling, and saw the man—Wazir—lying on the road, groaning. Blood had seeped into the cracks of the asphalt. Fear gripped him, but he had to act. In the dim starlight, he saw the large man lying face down. The road stretched empty for miles, swallowed by deep darkness. Durrani dragged him to the roadside, attempting to protect the evidence that linked him to the accident. The car refused to start no matter how hard he tried, and panic clawed at him again. Moments later, the light of a motorbike appeared in the distance, soon followed by a truck screeching toward him. Durrani flagged them frantically and begged, “There’s been an accident. Take me to the police station immediately!” Inside the truck, two men stared at the sight—a man in a black suit lay bleeding on the street, a motorbike destroyed nearby. Without hesitation, they agreed and sped toward the police station. Upon reaching, the night-duty inspector, along with two constables, accompanied Durrani back to the accident site. The man, Abdullah, was still alive but gravely wounded. They placed him in the station wagon and rushed him to the hospital. When Durrani returned home late that evening, he was exhausted. The hospital report confirmed that Abdullah had survived but had lost a leg. Durrani, thinking only of minor damages and insurance compensation, left the matter at that. --- Abdullah’s Transformation Abdullah, a rickshaw puller by profession, was now confined to a bed. Thin as a reed, bent like an insect, coughing endlessly, his once lively eyes now reflected only terror. His wife cared for him, but his misery made him bitter, and even neighbors began avoiding him. He lived in Jamsahla, a poor neighborhood dotted with half-built homes and thatched roofs. At its center lay an old British cemetery, surrounded by a solid wall. The legend of the cemetery was terrifying: the ghost of a British colonel who had committed suicide haunted the streets at night. Whenever anyone saw him, they would hear a single terrifying word: “Buttermilk.” One night, when Abdullah’s wife fell ill and he had no food, he wandered into the cemetery lane. Through the mist, he saw a lone figure. Overcome with fear and hunger, he hissed in a ghostly voice, “Drink buttermilk…” The man, terrified, dropped a bundle he was carrying and ran. Abdullah seized the bundle—it contained food. That night, hunger had forced him to step into the role of a ghost. From that day onward, Abdullah embraced his terrifying new persona. Wrapped in blankets, his crutches clattering on the streets, he became Banash—the living ghost of Nicholson Road. People believed the colonel’s ghost had returned. Initially, he stole food, but over time, he became bolder, even taking money from frightened passersby. --- The Power of Fear Night after night, the neighborhood lived in terror. Streets emptied as soon as darkness fell. Abdullah’s face, twisted by pain and fear, and his hollow, echoing voice terrified even the bravest. The legend of Banash grew. Eventually, his overconfidence led him to knock on a door one night, trying a new scare tactic. “Drink buttermilk…” he whispered, his voice harsher than ever. The man inside screamed, waking the entire neighborhood. Soon, villagers poured into the streets with stones, intent on killing the ghost. Abdullah tried to flee, but stones rained down upon him. One struck his head. He cried, “I am dying! Help me!” but no one listened. The villagers, believing in the ghost story, continued their assault. By dawn, he lay in the street, bloodied and battered, his crutches beside him. Banash had fallen—not a ghost, but a broken, desperate man. --- Epilogue Abdullah’s story became a dark legend in Jamsahla. People still whispered about Banash, the ghost of Nicholson Road. But those who knew the truth understood: he had become a monster only because society had abandoned him. Hunger, disability, and neglect had shaped his terror. Even in death, the tale reminded the neighborhood of the fine line between fear and compassion. --- 🌟 MORAL When society neglects the weak and vulnerable, it forces them into the very roles that others fear. Compassion and empathy can prevent monsters from being created.
By Ihtisham Ulhaqabout a year ago in Humans
Top 10 Must-Have Gadgets for 2025 That Will Change Your Daily Life
Top 10 Must-Have Gadgets for 2025 That Will Change Your Daily Life Technology is moving faster than ever, and every year we see new gadgets that transform the way we live, work, and connect. From AI-powered wearables to smarter smartphones, 2025 is already proving to be one of the most exciting years for tech lovers.
By Daniel Writes about a year ago in Humans
“The Forgotten Straightforward Man” . AI-Generated.
No one knew exactly when Master Ilyas came to this neighborhood or when he rented the small room, but everyone knew he was a refugee from Ambala because he spoke the dialect of that region. Master Ilyas lived in a rented room. The boys of the neighborhood would come to him to learn counting, numbers, and writing on the board. He had a quail and a rooster. The quails were kept in cages, but the rooster always stood a little distance from his door. Master Ilyas had fixed a brass ring on one of the rooster’s legs, tied a strong string to it, and nailed the other end of the string to the threshold of his room. The people of Mohsin’s neighborhood respected Master Ilyas. Whenever they passed by his door, they greeted him with “Assalamu Alaikum.” Master Ji seemed to do some other work too, but no one really knew what it was. Perhaps he worked as a clerk in the vegetable market, or maybe in a dyeing factory, or in some distant neighborhood. His life was a mystery, but everyone knew that he survived on a meager income. In truth, Master Sahib was a very straightforward man. He did not know how to keep pace with the times. His appearance was such that it did not attract sympathy, and his speech was so plain that people never believed him. He never lied, never manipulated, never exaggerated, never boasted, and never frightened anyone. His honesty was so blunt and uncompromising that people found it uncomfortable. He seemed less like a man and more like a burden on the world. Because of this, he had no friends. The people of the neighborhood respected him only from a distance, with greetings and formal kindness. One winter evening, the landlord came and scolded Master Ilyas harshly. He threatened that if the rent of the last six months—one hundred and eighty rupees—was not paid within three days, he would throw his belongings out. Master Ji was terrified, because he had only fifty rupees, tied in a thread in his pocket. The landlord angrily threw the money on the ground, in front of the rooster, and said: “Go away! I don’t want this. Bring me the full one hundred and eighty!” When the landlord left, Master Ilyas picked up the money and put it in his waistcoat pocket. He sat on his small cot, grief-stricken. For the first time, he felt such sorrow that it tied his chest, yet no tears came to his eyes. As promised, the landlord soon picked up his belongings and threw them out. He placed Master Sahib’s cot under the transformer and piled the rest of his things nearby. Then, locking the room with a new Chinese lock, he rode away on his scooter. The next morning, Master Ilyas went to Sheikh Karim Nawaz’s mansion and asked him for a loan of two hundred rupees. Sheikh Sahib, however, dismissed him as a good but foolish man. Later, he went to Ismail Bajaz’s shop and reduced his request to one hundred and fifty rupees, but Ismail too apologized. Master Sahib went from place to place, but in those days of inflation, no one had anything to lend. On the eighth night of sleeping under the transformer, Master Ilyas went to a homeopathic doctor. After checking him, the doctor said, “Master Sahib, you have pneumonia. I can give you some medicine, but you should also see a proper doctor.” Master Ji left the clinic, drank a glass of hot milk from Jabbar Halwai’s shop, and again asked him for a loan of two hundred rupees. Jabbar, knowing no one would lend to such a poor and helpless man, laughed. It was a rare laugh for Jabbar, but to him the request seemed absurd. For three days in a row, Master Ilyas sat on his small cot with his head covered by a blanket. When neighbors passed by, they greeted him: “Why, Master, the sun is setting?” And he would reply in a muffled voice, “Yes, it was a little cold.” On the fourth day, at the time of the Fajr call to prayer, Master Ilyas quietly passed away. The entire neighborhood of Mohsin Mohalla was stunned. By breakfast, silence and grief wrapped the streets. A bowl of kangani was given to his quails, and a bowl of flour to his rooster. Sheikh Karim Nawaz came out of his mansion and sat under the transformer. Soon, people gathered. Two hundred rupees were sent with Saeed and Bilal to arrange the grave. Three hundred rupees were given to Babu Jalal to buy camphor, rose water, and flowers for the burial. Jabbar Halwai even brought a piece of fresh sweet for the mourners. Together, the people of Mohsin Mohalla collected eight hundred and eleven rupees for Master Sahib’s funeral. --- Moral of the Story: Society often forgets the most honest and straightforward people while they live, yet remembers them with respect only after they are gone. True kindness is not in showing respect at the grave, but in standing by the needy while they are alive.
By Ihtisham Ulhaqabout a year ago in Humans
Punctuality
Doing every task on time is called "punctuality". We remember the past. We build castles in the air for the future but completely forget the present. However, instead of regretting the past, we should take advantage of the present. We should appreciate every moment of it and strive to make our present and future bright by using it.
By Tasir ullahabout a year ago in Humans
