I know it’s not unique to me, these men in my DMs.

It has very little to do with me at all. It’s how I make them feel about themselves.

Not to say they’re not interested in getting to know me, sure they are. But above that they are looking for a hit. The adrenaline rush from a cute girl replying to their texts. Proof that they are still viable, attractive, wanted. A reminder that even though their job, friends, and partners aren’t fulfilling their needs; there is someone out there that might.

Beyond the obvious, these men are looking for hope.

I offer them the notion of someone, a soulmate, a twin flame. They project onto to me what they want to be and I reflect it back. I don’t mean to mirror them but it’s easier than being seen myself. A two-way-glass of sorts. I’m standing right there but all they see is themselves. When it turns out to be a mirage and I evaporate from their lives forever, it’s not me they miss, it’s the version of themselves they saw in me.

The idea that I am the cure, the fix, or their happily ever after is just that, an idea.

Men fall in love with the idea of me quickly.

It’s not unusual to have someone tell me they are in love with me via text before we’ve ever met. The more I love you’s I get the less they mean. A watered down version of the word. Not that I am not deserving of love, everyone is, but this isn’t love—it’s longing.

Men want me to make their lives make sense. Every heartbreak, every failure, every rejection; not for nothing because it led them to me, the one. I don’t blame them, I used to think like this too.

Once I got THE guy all my problems would dissolve. Funnily enough, the opposite is true. Nobody can fix your life for you, sadly. Whenever I start a relationship looking for a high, a distraction, a quick fix, I end up losing myself completely. And once that first hit of dopamine dissipates—I am left empty, alone, jonesing for the next.

It doesn’t take me long to find. Only ever one selfie away from an inbox full of DMs if I want them. I have things under control, I only use (men) in moderation.

I don’t sleep with the men in my DMs, or even meet them. I only let them see a curated version of myself. I let them feel close to me without ever putting my walls down. The stakes are low enough that I know I won’t get hurt. When it’s over I am fine, so are they—I assume. Because in the end, they were only looking for that dopamine high too.

A funny thing happened this year though. In the midst of my little game, I accidentally forgot the rules.

What started out as a quick dopamine rush, much like the others, gave way to a time-released feeling of euphoria. Someone who made me feel safe enough to let them see me, not from behind the glass. A man who calms my nervous system in a way no drug could. A sustained high that I have gladly traded in all the quick hits for.