I Refuse to Rush Love
In a world obsessed with meeting immediately, I’m choosing emotional intimacy before physical proximity.
There was a time when love moved slowly.
Not because people were less busy. Not because the world was simpler. But because connection itself was the destination, not the obstacle.
You would meet someone by accident, or through a few fragile words floating across a screen. And that was enough. Enough to begin.
You didn’t rush to meet. You didn’t interrogate logistics. You stayed there, in the invisible space between two souls, letting something form that neither of you could touch yet.
And it was intoxicating.
You would wait for their message.
Not anxiously. Not desperately. But with curiosity. With openness. With the quiet thrill of being seen by someone who had no physical access to you. Someone who could only know you through your mind. Your humour. Your honesty. Your essence.
They weren’t falling in love with your physical being.
They were falling in love with you.
But somewhere along the way, this became unacceptable.
Now everything is urgency.
People on dating apps don’t want to talk. They want to meet immediately.
They don’t want to wonder and explore. They want to know now.
They don’t want to feel anticipation. They want instant fleeting gratification.
It’s efficient. It’s practical.
And it’s completely devoid of magic.
There is something deeply intimate about not rushing into physical proximity. About allowing two people to discover each other without the noise of appearance, chemistry, or expectation interfering.
And this is exactly what dating apps have amplified.
Because yes, I’m on the dating apps.
And what I’ve noticed is how quickly people want to bypass the very part that makes connection meaningful.
They want to meet immediately, as if texting is just an inconvenience to get through. As if conversation is simply a formality before the “real” interaction begins.
But for me, texting someone is not an obstacle.
It is the beginning.
It is a beautiful, intimate space where two inner worlds begin reaching toward each other.
It is where you discover how someone thinks.
How they see the world.
How they respond.
How they reveal themselves when all they have are words.
It is where resonance either quietly forms, or it doesn’t.
And that matters.
Because when someone is willing to stay there, in that invisible space, without rushing, it tells me everything I need to know.
It tells me they are not driven by urgency.
They are driven by curiosity.
It tells me they are not trying to secure access to my body.
They are interested in discovering my mind.
It tells me they are capable of patience.
Of presence.
Of allowing something real to unfold.
And now, we are barely given the time to discover that.
If any man on a dating app says, “I’d rather we just meet in person,” I unmatch with them immediately.
Not because meeting in person is wrong.
But because nobody is going to rush me into physical proximity before I have decided whether I even like them.
My time is precious.
My energy is precious.
And my presence is not something I offer casually.
There is something deeply intimate about allowing two people to discover each other without appearance, chemistry, or expectation interfering.
When someone takes the time to know your inner world first, something else happens.
Safety forms. Not forced safety. Not performed safety. Real safety.
Because they’re choosing you without needing immediate gratification.
They are staying because they want to be there, not because you are convenient, not because you are available, but because something about you speaks to something inside them.
This is the slow burn.
And the slow burn is what I’m into.
It is not naive.
It is not unrealistic.
It is deliberate.
It is two people standing at the edge of something and allowing it to unfold without forcing it into a shape before it’s ready.
I am not interested in rushing toward someone just to see if it works.
I am interested in feeling whether it’s real.
I want to know how someone thinks. How they see the world. How they respond to silence. Whether they are curious. Whether they are kind. Whether they can meet me in the invisible space where nothing is guaranteed and nothing is forced.
My time is precious.
My energy is precious.
And my presence is not something I offer casually.
I am not looking for proximity.
I am looking for resonance.
I am looking for the moment when conversation stops feeling like effort and starts feeling like recognition.
Romance is not dead.
It has simply been replaced by speed.
But the slow burn still exists.
And for those who are willing to let it happen, it is still the most powerful way to fall in love.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
Saskia x