#angieoz

There are decisions in life we make quickly — the kind we make when we’re hungry, curious, or young. And then there are decisions that ask us to sit with them. To listen to their silence. To hold them up to the light and watch how they shift with time.

Choosing a life partner… that’s one of those.

It’s not a feeling that crashes into you like a wave. It’s not a spark that ignites simply because eyes met across a crowded room or because the second date came with butterflies and candlelight. It’s more like tending a fire — slow, intentional, and enduring. The kind that keeps you warm, even through a storm.

Because this person? This is supposed to be the one who holds your hand as you say goodbye to the people who raised you. This is your safe place when life becomes too sharp around the edges. This is your constant when everything else shifts. Your soft landing. Your rock. Your home.

After losing the person I thought I’d build my forever with — the one who held space for me in ways that words will never do justice — I learned something sacred: moving forward doesn’t mean rushing forward.

Grief rewires you. It sharpens your understanding of love, of time, of what it means to truly choose someone. So now, for the first time in three years, I’m dating again. But I’m not dating for distraction. I’m not dating to pass time or fill silence. I’m dating because I’m ready to build again — slowly, with care, and on purpose.

This time, I’m not choosing based on chemistry alone. I’m looking at character. I’m listening for consistency. I’m watching how someone shows up when things aren’t easy. I’m more interested in the quiet moments — the ones where you don’t need to perform, pretend, or be anything other than exactly who you are.

This isn’t about fear. It’s about reverence. I understand the weight of this choice. I know what it means to love someone through all of life — the hard parts, the good parts, and the absolutely ordinary. I know what it is to lose them, too.

So yes… I’m taking my time.

And there is nothing wrong with that.

Because I’m not choosing someone to love for a season. I’m choosing someone to love every single day for the rest of my life. I want to grow something real — rooted and resilient. The kind of love that doesn't need a spotlight, only sunlight. The kind that won’t always announce itself loudly but will always be there — steady, sure, and quietly strong.

So no, I won’t be rushed. And no, I won’t settle. This is the most important “yes” I’ll ever give. And when I do, it’ll be because I’ve built a foundation I can stand on — not a fantasy I’m afraid to lose.

Until then, I’m building myself. I’m protecting my peace. And I’m choosing to believe that the right person will understand the value of being chosen with intention — not impulse.