I Think Modern Intimacy Is Broken

I think love has lost its meaning.

Not in a dramatic, cynical way, just in the way words lose weight when they’re overused. Love has become something people say casually, like a caption or a punctuation mark. Most people say it because it sounds right, not because it’s rooted in certainty. And maybe that’s why I flinch a little every time someone says “I love you” too easily.

I don’t pretend to be what I’m not. I know I have commitment issues. I know I want respect, loyalty, and honesty. I know I don’t want to be cheated on. But I also know myself well enough to admit something most people are afraid to say out loud: I don’t believe one man can serve every part of me. And I don’t want to be at the mercy of one person without having another place to land.

In my head, it makes sense. To love two men openly. To love them intensely, but differently. To not hide it. To not lie. To let everyone know exactly where they stand. But we don’t live in a world that rewards honesty like that. We live in a world that punishes women for wanting more than one narrative at a time.

And sometimes I wonder... will I win with that fantasy, or will society win and shape me into something smaller, more digestible, and more acceptable?

It’s not even about sex. It’s deeper than that. When I love, I love hard. I’m dominant by nature, not in a crazy way, but in a protective way. I want to shield my baby from harm. I want to back him with ideas, strategies, and vision. I want to help him level up financially, mentally, and spiritually, while I’m doing the same for myself. I’m not hustling, building, or creating with every skill I have just to wait around on a man.

And still... let’s be honest, I want the sugar baby flex. I want a man wealthy enough that generosity feels natural to him and not transactional. I want to feel spoiled and sovereign. Both can exist. I refuse to believe otherwise.

When I think about the intimacy I actually crave, it’s not surface-level romance. It’s not optics. It’s not matching outfits or soft launches on social media.

I want a smart man. A man who fuels me. A man who makes me spark with ideas and opinions and thoughts, without ever talking down to me. No judgment. No condescension. Just intellectual friction. The kind that feels electric.

I want intimacy so thick that eye contact alone makes the room uncomfortable. The kind where people feel the heat we generate for ourselves and suddenly want what they don’t have. The kind where he knows me before I speak. The kind where the moment his hand touches my skin, something ancient wakes up in me, and I stop pretending to be civilized.

I want inside jokes that don’t need explaining. I want gossip whispered in kitchens at midnight. I want laughter that turns into crying that turns into planning. I want to orbit, knowing when to give space and knowing when to pull close. I want growth that isn’t pretty... You know... the kind where there's unlearning and relearning. And our pillow talks can multitask as a strategy meeting. 

I want safety. Not the boring kind... the kind that lets me say, without fear, this is my person. Just this person.

And yes, I crave devotion so intense God would be jealous. Worship me without shrinking. Love me without hesitation.

Modern intimacy doesn’t look like that. It’s shallow. It’s short-lived. It’s built on trends, comments, optics, and peer validation. It collapses the moment the algorithm shifts. That’s why so many connections burn fast and die quietly.

People say "I love you" and expect applause. But I’m not impressed by words anymore. Do you really love me? Without thinking, would you step between me and danger? Without thinking, would you choose me first? Without thinking, would there ever be a moment when I feel optional?

Life throws curveballs, yes... but certainty is rare. And when someone is one hundred percent certain about you, that’s when you know love is real.

So what do I think about modern intimacy?

I think it’s shit.

Not just in romantic relationships but everywhere. Friendships built on convenience. Family love is tangled in obligation instead of understanding. People are afraid to be honest because honesty costs them comfort.

Everyone wants closeness, but no one wants responsibility.

And me? I’d rather be alone than watered down. I’d rather wait than settle. I’d rather be misunderstood than lie to myself.

Because when intimacy is real... and I mean truly real... it doesn’t need to be explained. It just exists. 

And I refuse to stop wanting that.