When They Come Crawling Back: The Curious Case of the 1:15 A.M. Call

In the world of love, timing is everything. Just when you think you’ve finally put the past behind you, there it is—an unexpected call that sends you spiraling back to old emotions. One moment, you’re sipping your evening tea, content in your singlehood, and the next, your phone lights up with the name of someone who used to mean the world to you.

Let’s be honest: we’ve all been there. That late-night ring triggers a pit in your stomach and tempts you to engage with someone who clearly doesn’t understand the concept of “moving on.” The decision to hit “ignore” feels empowering, but what happens when that late-night call isn’t a mistake, but the start of yet another chapter in a never-ending cycle of “let’s try this again”?

Picture this: It’s late on a Sunday, the streets are quiet, and the whole city is asleep. She’s drifting off when suddenly, her phone lights up. It’s him—Mr. Midnight, popping up on her screen like a pop quiz she’s already aced. Without hesitation, she cuts the call and blocks his number, putting him on an indefinite “Do Not Disturb.” It’s almost poetic, the quiet satisfaction that comes from swiping left on an ex’s late-night drama.

And this isn’t the first time she’s heard from Mr. Midnight. He’s got this Houdini habit of disappearing, reappearing, and always at the worst possible times. But this time, she’s done with the magic act. The curtain is down, the show's over, and her silence is the applause.

The Witching Hour Dilemma

Why the late-night call? It’s always the same. He shows up at 1:15 a.m., right when the whole city is sound asleep and regrets are running high. Maybe he’s feeling nostalgic, or maybe it’s just the last call syndrome—a need to be heard at an hour when he’s most alone. It’s not about her; it’s about needing a voice, a warm response to soothe his ego. And she’s learned that nothing good ever happens after midnight, especially when it’s a blast from the past on the other end of the line.

Silence is the New Reply-All

Here’s the thing: responding to him would have been easy. She could’ve fired off a message like, “Don’t ever call me again,” but she knows better. Silence, she’s realized, is the ultimate power move. It says everything she needs to without wasting a single word. It’s her way of saying, “I’ve moved on,” without actually saying anything at all.

In this case, silence isn’t just golden; it’s platinum. She’s done with being pulled back into his orbit. She’s made her decision, and her lack of response is the clearest message she could send. After all, what can he argue with when there’s nothing to argue against?

Blocking: The New Boundary

Now, about the block. Blocking isn’t just technical; it’s personal. It’s her way of saying, “I’m choosing me.” Mr. Midnight may think he’s making a grand gesture, but she’s seen this act before. He comes back, charms his way in, only to ghost her as soon as things get real. This time, she’s drawing a line—no, a wall. Blocking isn’t about avoiding him; it’s about valuing herself enough to know she deserves better than a late-night ego trip.

She’s protecting her peace, her sanity, and her time. And, really, when you’re finally done, there’s no need to make a scene. You just lock the door, shut off the lights, and let them knock all they want on a door that will never open again.

Choosing Herself Over the Cycle

It’s funny, really. She used to wait for these grand gestures, thinking they meant something. But now, she knows the real power move isn’t in reacting. It’s in letting go. Mr. Midnight might come back around someday, but this time, he’ll find there’s no one waiting. She’s moved on to bigger and better dreams, leaving the late-night calls and their drama behind.

Thanks for reading!

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 The 'Woman Card’: Power Play or Just a Ploy?

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write—work has been all-consuming, like trying to fit your life into a too-tight pair of jeans. But here I am, thanks to my overtime hustle, constantly proving my worth in a room full of people who don’t seem to notice. 

The other day, when I casually mentioned my exhaustion to a colleague, his response? "Why don’t you just play the woman card and get out of the extra work?"

I couldn’t help but wonder: since when did the "woman card" come with the luxury of skipping overtime? Isn’t it just basic human decency to not overwork someone? And yet, here it was—the infamous "woman card" being thrown at me like a get-out-of-jail-free card I didn’t ask for.

Every woman I know has heard it at least once: "Just play the woman card." But here’s the irony—this advice almost always comes from a man. Especially in the corporate world, where, if you dare to mention any issue you’re facing—be it stress, workload, or unfair treatment—you’re likely to hear, "Just play the woman card."

But let’s get real. What does "playing the woman card" even mean from a man’s perspective?

It’s a quick escape, like slipping out the back door of a party without saying goodbye.

It’s a silent "threat" they think we can use to make others back off.

It’s seen as the easiest, least complicated way to get what we want—no fuss, no muss. (Oh, how I wish it were that simple.)

It’s their idea of a "smart move" to navigate challenges without getting pushback.

But here’s the kicker: how often do we, as women, actually get to "play" this magical card?

Spoiler alert: not as often as you might think. If the woman card really held so much power, do you think we’d be burning the midnight oil in the office, debugging code that refuses to cooperate? Or heading back to work right after having a baby? Or working through the aches of a menstrual cycle while pretending we feel fine?

The truth is, life isn’t nearly as glamorous as men seem to believe when they toss out the idea of the woman card. If it were that easy, we’d all be walking around with free passes, and nobody would ever be stuck in the trenches.

So next time a woman tells you she’s struggling, don’t jump to suggest the "woman card." Instead, ask yourself: is there really a card to be played, or is this just a situation where empathy and understanding are needed? Maybe it’s not about escaping the game—it’s about changing how we play it altogether.

Thanks for reading!

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If He Knows, He Knows!

I sat down to write this after a conversation with a friend. She had just finished telling me about a guy she met at a random café. He wanted something casual—*nothing serious*. But now? He’s getting engaged to the love of his life. And she couldn’t help but wonder: Why didn’t he feel that way about me? Was I not enough? Was I not what he was looking for? 

It’s funny how quickly we, as women, turn inward, questioning ourselves the moment we aren't chosen. We start analyzing every little detail, every interaction, as if the answer lies somewhere in what we did—or didn’t do.

After the call, I couldn’t shake a certain thought: when a man knows, he just knows. There’s no hesitation. “No coulda, woulda, shoulda”. Whether it’s bending over backwards to get her parents’ approval, flying across the country to be there for her birthday, or proposing after just a few months of dating—when he’s with the right girl, he knows. He acts.

 

 

But here’s the real question: why do men stick around with women they know aren’t "the one"? Why do they keep us close enough to stay but distant enough to never really be there?

The truth is, men crave love and attention just as much as we do. But the difference is this: some can settle for the wrong kind, while others can’t. One friend tells me, *Men just aren’t ready to commit* and yet another is sending out save-the-dates for her wedding to a guy who committed in a heartbeat.

So, do men really fear commitment? Or is it that they only fear committing to the wrong person? Because unless you’re *her*, you’ll always be the woman he can *go to* but never the one he *lets* in. You could follow the unwritten “101 Ways to Be His Girl,” but with the right woman, that rulebook doesn’t even exist.

It’s funny but true: if you find yourself in a relationship filled with more questions than answers, you’ll never stop searching for clarity. But what if, instead of settling for the guy who makes you feel uncertain, you wait for the one who brings the certainty with him? The man who doesn’t make you question your worth, but adds meaning to your life. The one who feels like *home*.

So, it leaves me wondering: Men, when you already know what you want, why waste time with someone you don’t? Is it that hard to be honest with us—or with yourselves?

Thanks for reading!

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Is Dating Still My Thing?

There was a time when dating felt like a high-stakes game of poker—exciting, risky, and full of possibilities. I played my cards, bet my heart, and, inevitably, lost a few hands. But now, sitting in a cozy café with my cappuccino as my only companion, I can’t help but wonder: is dating still my game? Or have I folded my hand for good?

Somewhere between sips of coffee and the clinking of cups, I overheard a girl ask her friend, “Why couldn’t you get a guy this year?” Her words lingered in the air like the scent of freshly brewed coffee. It wasn’t my conversation, but her question stirred something in me. Was I supposed to ask myself the same thing? The answer came swiftly and unapologetically: If I wanted to, I would have.

You see, being single in 2025 feels less like a lonely walk through the desert and more like a spa day for the soul. There’s a unique bliss in being your own person, without the weight of unread texts, unspoken expectations, or those dreaded “what are we?” conversations. I spend my money on me, my time on me, and my energy on—well, you guessed it—me.

Sure, love is magical. But so is not having to fake enthusiasm for yet another Marvel movie date night. Singlehood is like owning the remote control to your own life. You call the shots, choose the shows, and never have to settle for someone else’s reruns.

Don’t get me wrong—having a partner is wonderful. Love can be the cherry on top of life’s sundae. But right now, I’m pretty content just enjoying the ice cream. No cherry needed, thank you very much.

Maybe it’s not about whether dating is “my thing” anymore. Maybe it’s about redefining the narrative. Why should singlehood be seen as a waiting room for love? Why not a penthouse suite where you sip champagne, dance in your pajamas, and revel in the glorious mess of being your own person?

As I finished my coffee, I smiled to myself. The right person will show up at the right time—like an Uber you didn’t know you needed. Until then, I’ll keep being the leading lady in my own story.

Because if love is the destination, singlehood is the scenic route—and darling, I’m enjoying the ride.

Friendship or Fading Favors?

In a city where friendships often feel like a distant fantasy, where social lives are as fleeting as a subway train, the one thing you rely on is your long-distance friends. But let’s get real for a second—do they miss you the way you miss them? Do they care like you care?

Growing up, I always imagined that, if I didn’t find the perfect life partner, I’d at least have the perfect friends. You know, the kind who show up for everything—the late-night heart-to-hearts, the spontaneous weekend trips, the “just because” celebrations. And for a while, I thought I had it.

But as the years go by, I start to wonder: is "perfect friendship" just another myth? Why did that feeling of certainty turn into doubt? Why did the friends I thought I could count on suddenly seem so... absent?

There’s a moment when you realize your dream of living a Sex and the City life isn’t exactly panning out. Life has its own way of delivering reality checks—usually when you least expect them.

So, picture this: you’re excited to ring in the New Year with your girls—what could be better than a night of laughter and champagne? Then, one friend suggest to celebrate it with my future husband(whom I don't even know in which corner of the world he's in). Another says she has “commitments” with her boyfriend. And yet another friend—well, he dodges the bullet and makes plans with another group.

And then, there’s the inevitable: “Why do you even want to celebrate the New Year? It’s just a year, after all.”

Really? Is this what friendship looks like in adulthood? You spend all year waiting for the one time you can all get together—and when it finally happens, you’re left wondering if anyone really cares. I mean, sure, everyone’s busy with their lives, but at some point, it stops feeling like a coincidence and starts feeling like... well, a trend.

One year-end celebration? Nope.

One proper trip together? No chance.

Showing up when it counts? Apparently not.

Excuses are fine, but after a while, they start to feel more like lies. And you can’t keep lying to someone and expect them not to catch on.

Here’s the thing—friendships, like any relationship, should be worth keeping. They should make you feel seen, heard, and valued. Not just when it's convenient or easy, but when it matters. If they’re not worth the effort, maybe it’s time to let them go, or at least take a step back.

So here I am, in the middle of a New Year’s Eve that’s spent mostly with myself. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the lesson is that, sometimes, you have to rely on your own company before you can truly appreciate the people who show up when it counts.

Happy New Year to me.

I’m Single, Not Broken: What Committed Friends Don’t Get.

I couldn't help but wonder, when did being single become something that needed to be fixed? In a world where everyone seems to be pairing off, it’s easy to feel like being single is a problem to be solved, a state of existence waiting for its expiration date. But what if it isn’t? What if, instead of being broken or incomplete, being single is simply… being?

It’s funny how friends, once they’re committed, seem to forget what it’s like on this side. They become relationship experts, doling out advice as if love comes with a step-by-step guide. But how much of that advice really comes from a place of understanding? And how much of it is just them projecting their own happily-ever-after onto your life?

Are Your Friends Really Your Monica or Rachel?

One of the most fascinating and frankly, annoying things about being single is how your committed friends make you feel. Is your bestie really your Monica or Rachel? Does your friend group *actually* have the supportive, understanding dynamic you see in *Sex and the City*?

Being single comes with its own set of pros and cons. And spoiler alert: No one hands you a manual titled "The Acts That Will Keep You Single Forever." As women, we’re often conditioned to crave that fairytale ending, to settle down with the love of our lives. But let's be real—how many of our committed friends *really* get it?

Let me paint you a picture with some of the gems I've heard along the way, which may or may not have made sense at the time.

1. The “She’s Doomed” Comment

You’re out with a group of friends, and the conversation turns to dating. Someone casually says, “Oh, her? Don’t ask. Dating just isn’t for her. She’s probably going to die alone… haha.” 

Sure, I’ve joked about dying alone—who hasn’t? But hearing it tossed around in a group of "not-so-close" people? Is that really the time to throw in a comment like that? Spoiler: It’s not.

2. The “Just Give Up” Advice

"Why don’t you just give up on dating and marry someone your parents choose? Dating clearly isn’t working for you." 

Ouch. This one stings because it usually comes from someone you thought knew you better. Isn’t this friend aware of everything you’ve been through in your dating life? If they’re truly concerned about you getting hurt again, aren’t there more thoughtful ways to show it without cutting so deep?

3. The “Are You Sure You Want to Date?” Question

"Do you really want to date someone after everything that’s happened?" 

Honestly, what I want to ask is: If I get hurt again, will you still be there to support me? The fear of rejection and betrayal lingers long after a bad relationship. Isn’t a *true* friend supposed to stand by you through those tough times? Or is that asking too much?

These are just my top three examples of things I’ve heard and, sadly, come to expect. As single women, we’ve mastered the art of brushing off the unsolicited advice and veiled concerns with a polite, “Haha, yeah!”

But to all my single ladies out there, whether you’re thriving or just surviving—you don’t need to wait for Prince Charming to make your life feel complete. What you *do* deserve is a friend who’s your Samantha Jones, someone who sets a new standard for friendship.