The Sun and Illusory Stars
The Sun and Illusory Stars
I failed again in a relationship. I know this happens to everyone, but after spending three years researching love and relationships as a documentarian, I thought I’d be better at navigating them by now.
Who’s to blame? Mostly, my own expectations—and my inability to tell the difference between illusion and reality. When one partner is seeking family and partnership, while the other just wants casual sex, the mismatch eventually becomes obvious. Unfortunately, it often takes a painful emotional investment to realize it.
Looking back, I felt in my gut that something wasn’t right. His actions—short, casual meetups centered mostly around sex—were not aligned with the future I was hoping for: a natural, organic progression into a deeper relationship, where we’d share everyday life together.
When that never materialized, I was hurt. I realized I had been building an expectation, an imagined future, that simply didn’t exist.
I know by now that what I picture in my head rarely matches reality. But in this case, ignoring my instincts left me with an empty feeling. I dismissed the evidence in front of me, hoping things would somehow get better.
That leads me to authenticity.
Authenticity isn’t just about being true to yourself—it’s also about being real in your connection with others. Looking back, I can see three areas where I could have been more authentic in this relationship:
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Seeing reality clearly.
I should have accepted that he wasn’t that into me, instead of pretending it could grow into something more. -
Expressing emotions openly.
At the very end, I finally told him I loved him and could picture having kids together. He was surprised—because I had never said that before. If I had expressed it earlier, I would have learned sooner that he didn’t share that vision. Painful, yes, but it would have saved me time and confusion. -
Understanding my own motivations.
I’ve always wanted a partner who can match me intellectually, spiritually, and emotionally. Quality time is my love language. But for years, I’ve played the role of the “cool, independent single girl” who doesn’t need that. In doing so, I denied my own needs and avoided stating them openly. The truth is, if someone doesn’t like who you are at the start, they never will—and it’s better to know sooner than later.
The lesson: trust your gut, release expectations, and stay authentic. When you do, it’s easier to recognize misalignment early and walk away before things become painful.
Rejection is hard. Neuroscience shows that rejection activates the same neurons as physical pain—it literally hurts. But the more we experience it, the more resilient our brains become. Each rejection strengthens those neural pathways, making it easier to face the next time. Short-lived, quickly ended relationships are far less damaging than long, drawn-out ones.
And rejection isn’t one-sided. It’s not just about me being rejected—he also lost something. He no longer has my friendship, intimacy, or the benefits of the relationship. We both lost something.
External forces shape these dynamics too. A hundred years ago, people often married those within their own circles—neighbors, classmates, people from the same town, faith, or culture. But technology has shifted that. Airplanes, telephones, the internet, and dating apps have expanded how we meet people.
Today, we’re less likely to marry our best friend and more likely to connect with someone we barely knew before—an “absent tie.” These loose ties connect us to wider networks, exposing us to opportunities (like job offers) and to people we otherwise wouldn’t meet.
But this also means couples are now more likely to come from completely different worlds—different values, traditions, and life contexts. That diversity can be enriching, but it can also create misalignment that’s hard to bridge.
