#tinderchronicles

Hello,

I’m Geronimo. Or just Ger, if that feels lighter on the tongue.

I’m from Ormoc City — the City of Beautiful People.

(But sometimes, even in a city full of beauty, we still feel invisible.)

This is my story.

I’ve been on Tinder for about six months now.

It’s that kind of on-and-off relationship — not with a person, but with the app itself.

I delete it sometimes, not because I want to disappear, but because I feel so bored, tired, or maybe just… hopeless. But I never delete my profile. Maybe some part of me is always waiting.

And then one day — I met him.

A guy from Alaska.

A place I’ve never been, but now I can’t forget.

He was sweet, charming, and had that kind of gentle soul you don’t just meet every day.

We talked. A lot. About everything.

He said he liked me — because I’m adorable, cute, handsome…

And kind on the inside too.

(That last part mattered most.)

I started liking him back. Maybe more than I should’ve.

His stories, his voice, the way he said my name like it meant something.

I started falling.

But one day, just like that, he said:

> “I’m tired. I need to focus on myself. I need to recharge.”

I said, “I understand.”

Because I really do.

But it still hurt.

That’s the thing, right?

You give your warmth to someone, and they leave because they’re cold inside.

And you're the one left shivering.

That’s why I don’t want to fall in love again.

Not because I can’t.

But because I’m scared of being treated the way people always treat me.

I’m always the one who’s kind.

The one who checks in. The one who waits.

The one who hopes.

But maybe that’s not enough for people.

And maybe that’s okay.

I’m still here.

I’m still Geronimo.

The one who smiles even when it rains.

But for now…

I will never fall in love again.