Yes, that one from the line at Aldi. 🐾

My Greek god is not Greek. And definitely not a god. Just a guy from Maastricht who was replacing gas pipes in my street.

I call him that because he is, at least to me, unbelievably handsome — and one of those rare specimens who seems completely unaware of it.

On Tinder, plenty of men pass by who are just as good-looking. But their photos scream: six-pack, sunglasses, mirror selfies, shadow perfectly angled. Beauty as strategy. Nothing wrong with that.

But my Greek god doesn’t play that game.

He drinks like a sailor. Smokes like a chimney. And when we saw each other again after his vacation, I noticed he struggled slightly to put his socks back on.

“Too much pizza in Italy?” I laughed.
“Yes,” he said. “Almost two a day.”

In January this year, I saw him appear in the street for the first time. We regularly had small talks. And when we did, I saw the way he looked at me (I prefer not to think about how I looked at him 🙈).

And one day I thought: no guts, no glory.

I asked him if he wanted to be my lover.

Too often I’ve let things pass out of fear of rejection.
He said yes.

We don’t see each other very often. But that doesn’t bother me anymore. The things I learn from him when I don’t see him might be more valuable than what we actually do when we’re together.

Me — someone who literally lives on words and communication — is learning something new:

Non-communication.

Because he is, as he says himself, “not really into communication.” And he does not compromise on that. I’ve noticed.

He usually doesn’t call back.
He replies to messages half of the time. Or three days later. Briefly. Not powerfully.

When I once asked, “Do you actually like it when I send you a message?”
He answered: “It doesn’t bother me.”

(We laughed about that later.)

And when he keeps me waiting again, I realize it’s not him disappointing me — it’s my own expectations.

I’m learning that silence also creates space.
And that it’s refreshing not to constantly check whether Schrödinger’s cat is still alive. 🐈‍⬛

The most valuable lesson?
That not receiving validation brings me back to myself every single time — and to what truly matters to me. Instead of stomping my feet like a dramatic toddler in the candy aisle because someone isn’t rearranging their entire life to please me (which never works anyway).

And the miraculous part is: the more I do that, the more real connection there actually is.

He still works in Hoensbroek. And when we run into each other and wave, he smiles — and I see his face light up. Usually, it doesn’t take long before a “hooii” appears, followed by: “Got time?”

But even that ticks like a broken clock.

I have no idea how long this will continue. And I know there’s a thin line between learning and self-punishment… but as long as the first one wins, I’ll keep waving.

And smiling. 😄
Like a proper queen. 👑

Oh — and he has no idea about any of this.
Let’s keep it that way. 🫢