About TakeMYHand

TakeMYHand is divorced and is seeking males for friendship or a serious relationship.

Firstly:

No photo no reply. This isn’t Guess Who, Show your face or jog on. I’m not flirting with Casper. Either you’re ugly, married, or wanted None are my type.

Local men only unless you’re a millionaire with the freedom to travel. A touch of silver in your hair, and the time to wine, dine, and completely ruin me for all others.

🌑 HUSBAND WANTED: DEAD FIT OR ALIVE

Must love children, chaos, thighs with stories, flat whites, and women who have rebuilt themselves from ash. Bonus if you fly helicopters. Required if you can land — emotionally, spiritually, sexually, and consistently.

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🖤 ABOUT ME

I’m 41. UK size 20. 16 stone of soft flesh, sharp mind, and a fiercely beating heart. I’m a single mum to two wild, neurodivergent, magical daughters aged 5 and 6. I co-parent with the moon, coffee, autism meltdowns, and a very emotionally unavailable 17-year-old cat called Smudge.

I’ve survived domestic violence, grief, homelessness, abuse, and a thousand quiet betrayals. I’ve raised toddlers in hotels, cried in safe houses, and still managed to pour love into bedtime stories and burnt fish fingers.

I’ve healed in the sea, in splash pools, in half-broken hot tubs, and sometimes in Aldi next to the frozen peas.
I’ve fallen apart. I’ve rebuilt. I’ve made my pain into poetry and my rage into protection. And through it all I’ve stayed soft mostly. But take the wrong path and you’ll meet the storm.”

Soft enough to still want love. Not a fling. Not a maybe. Not a “see how it goes.” I want a man — one man — to build something holy, filthy, hilarious and healing with me.

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🌅 I CRAVE:

Beach days with sausage rolls and feral children in mismatched Crocs.

Hot tubs at sunset where I overshare and you just hold me.

Flat whites in bed and hands on my back when I’m spiralling.

Honest sex that starts with safety and ends with a cry-laugh.

Chaos that doesn’t scare you

A man who sees my softness and doesn’t see a woman to fix — but a woman to f*ing adore.

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🚁 BONUS POINTS IF:

You own a helicopter (literal or metaphorical)

You understand that love is built, not stumbled into.

You’ve survived things too — and didn’t let them harden you.

You have tools, emotions, patience, and a sense of humour.

You love autism brains, Croc meltdowns, and moon rock fantasies.

You’re not scared of period talk, stretch marks, or intensity — because you’ve got your own.

You can cook, hold space, and hold me up when I forget how.

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🧔‍♂️ ABOUT YOU

You’re emotionally safe. You’re over the ego games and under no illusions about what love takes. You’re steady, present, dominant in energy but soft in soul. You’re under 52, open to more children, and know how to stay.
You’re horny and holy. Protective and playful. Grounded and wildly alive. You don’t flinch at a woman who’s fierce, wounded, healing, and still dreaming.

You see my size as a gift, not a project. You want all of me — belly laughs, belly rolls, big thighs, big love. You want connection that roots you. Sex that undoes you. And love that makes you become more of yourself — not less.

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🚷 DO NOT APPLY IF:

You’re over 52 and still breadcrumbing.

You say “vibes” instead of feelings.

You ghost, bench, orbit, or breadcrumb.

You’re still in love with your ex.

You think babysitting your own child is a favour.

You shrink in silence or disappear when it gets deep

You think my softness is weakness and my body is negotiable.

You think “maybe” is enough — it isn’t.

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💋 WHAT I OFFER

A woman who’s been through hell and still loves like heaven.

A family full of madness, meaning, mess, and magic.

Touch that grounds you, words that undress you, and love that stays.

Flat whites. Smartie wars. Moonlight tantrums. Hot tub revelations.

Cuddles that feel like redemption.

Loyalty that burns.

Sex that doesn’t perform — it connects.

A partner, a storm, a safe place, a wild woman who’s ready to be adored.

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📜 FINAL WORDS

Don’t message me to “see how it goes.” Message me because you’ve read this and felt something in your bones. Because you’ve been waiting to be met like this.Because you’re tired of pretending you want less. Because you want to land — not hover.

This is a call-out to a man who is ready — not perfect, not polished — but ready.

Ready to show up.
Ready to love loud.
Ready to meet fire with water, soul with soul, and chaos with calm.

And if you do happen to fly a helicopter?

Bring it.

If not — just land soft.

Smudge is watching.
So are the kids.
And me? I’m just waiting for the last love of my life.

Charlie 🖤

What do you like most about where you currently live?

The One Who Won’t Flinch

by Charlie

Once, I thought I’d find him among men my age —
that rare kind who craved soul over skin,
who carried the weight of legacy,
who longed to plant one more seed of life,
rooted in something deeper than desire.

But I kept unearthing boys in grown bodies —
petulant, performative,
terrified of a woman who doesn’t shrink herself to fit.
A woman like me — all thunder and tenderness,
too wild to be caged,
too sacred to be played with.

I want more than shallow pleasure and scripted lines.
I want a man who knows that music is medicine.
Who lets Adele break him wide open.
Who hears "All I Ask" or "Love in the Dark"
and feels the ghost of every woman he’s ever loved — and lost.Someone who understands the ache in piano keys, the way a voice can carry grief, longing, devotion —
without ever saying a word.

Music raised me.
It held me when no one else did.
So if you don’t feel something
when the first chord hits...
you’ll never feel me.

I love slow mornings —
flat white in hand,
barefoot in the garden,
watching the wind tangle the trees
while my children laugh somewhere nearby,
free and feral and full of light.

I love deep talks that stretch past midnight,
candles burning low,
the house quiet except for my soul unfolding.
I love walking through fields after rain,
singing without apology,
letting mud kiss my ankles like it remembers me.

I love hot tubs at sunset,
eating lamb tikka naga with wet hair,
wrapped in chaos and comfort.
I love silence that doesn’t ache —
the kind that understands me.
I love lying on the floor with my girls,
tracing constellations we made up ourselves.
I love the smell of soil, the sound of truth,
the pull of a book that wrecks me
and rebuilds me in the same chapter.

And I love autism love —
the honest kind.
The love that doesn’t mask.
That doesn’t perform for comfort.
The kind that stims with joy,
melts down without shame,
and holds loyalty in its bones.

I love the intensity, the purity, the pattern of truth
in repetition and routine.
I love how my girls see the world through prisms
the rest of us forgot.
This is our life — chaotic, sacred, and unfiltered —
and I won’t apologise for any of it.
I want someone who doesn’t just accept that,
but wants it.
Who finds beauty in the hum of our world
and chooses it — chooses us —
again and again. ❤️

So don’t bring me flirtation wrapped in cowardice.
Bring me hunger that mirrors mine.
Hands that can hold my chaos with calm.
A man who sees my madness as proof I’ve survived —
not something to fix or fear.

Don’t touch my skin if you can’t hold my story.
I want eyes that devour with reverence,
not greed.
And silence that sings louder than noise —
a knowing kind of quiet.

Bring me the one
who walks through shadows without flinching,
who leads with quiet dominance,
and listens like he’s learning a sacred language.

The one who knows intimacy
isn’t just sex —
it’s surrender,
it’s sanctuary,
it’s soul recognition.

The kind of man
who doesn’t run when I unravel,
but wraps around me — steady, still —
like a place I can rest in.

Where is he —
the imperfect man with perfect intent?
The one not afraid of storms
because he’s made of them too.
Who’s known the dark
but never let it swallow him whole.

Bring me that man.
The one who can hold the full story.
The one who doesn’t flinch.

What are your favourite leisure activities?

Let Me Get Lost

by Charlie

Let me wander where the wild things grow —
where no one asks for directions,
and even the wind forgets where it’s going.
Let me drift beyond the reach of clocks,
where time softens
and nothing needs explaining.

Let me get lost in the hush between tall trees,
in the dance of leaves that don’t fear falling,
in the rhythm of hooves on wet earth —
steady, ancient, unbothered.
Let me forget the city —
its hard lines and louder lies,
its neon truths
that flicker and fade before they ever warm you.

Let me trade it for stars.
For mud on my boots.
For skies that don’t apologise for their darkness.
For the kind of silence that sings to me.
I don’t want a schedule.
I don’t want reception.
I don’t need to be reachable.

I need to disappear —
to unhook from the noise,
the names,
the roles,
the endlessness of proving.

Let me go where no one calls my name
but the birds.
Let my thoughts scatter like wild seeds
and bloom into nothing I can control.

I want to get lost —
truly lost —
not in fear,
but in freedom.
To disappear from the world’s eyes
and appear — for once — in my own.

To walk without purpose
until I remember
that I am the purpose.
To be unfound by the world…
and finally,
found by the earth.

Where in the world are your favourite places?

That Place I Long For

I've yet to find that place.
But I know it exists —
Somewhere warm,
Always near when my soul feels cold.
A place that doesn’t drift too far,
That doesn’t vanish with the sunrise.
Not something fleeting,
But something faithful.
A daily parting would feel too much.
Because this place —
It holds the rhythm of a heartbeat
That echoes my own.
Chest to chest, breath to breath.
To be held, not just touched.
To be known, not just seen.
To be safe, in the warmth of something real.
That place…
Isn’t just a house, or a landscape.
It’s love —
Living and breathing,
Wrapped in arms that say,
“You’re home.”

Where in the world would you love to visit?

I would love to go to Norway, to see the Northern Lights,

"Where Is the Love in This Hollow Age?"

This world feels colder now…
Like love has lost its meaning,
replaced by convenience,
by ego,
by lust dressed as connection.

What happened to old-fashioned love?
The kind that fought for you—
that stayed through silence,
through storms,
through messy human days.

Now they run at the first sign of discomfort,
ghost you when you speak too deep,
block you when you're too raw.
They crave instant highs but fear emotional depth.

No one wants to build anymore.
They want the mansion of love,
but not the bricks and the sweat it takes to lay them.

Communication?
It’s a dying art.
Now it's games and power plays,
not listening with intent,
not talking to understand.

I ache for the days I never knew—
when a man’s word was his honour,
when women were cherished,
when families sat down together
and looked each other in the eye.

The 60s had flaws,
but they had soul.
Respect was a given,
not something you had to beg for.

I’m not built for this swipe-left society.
I don’t want ‘better’—
I want real.
Real love.
Real connection.
Real effort.

So I sit here with an old soul,
watching a world fall apart at the seams,
asking the question
no one seems to answer anymore:

Where is the love?
Where is the fight for what matters?
Where is the courage to stay
when it's no longer easy?

Because I promise you—
the deepest love is never found
in easy places.

What would you do on an ideal date?

An Ideal Date?

An ideal date is one where there’s no awkward silence —
just that effortless flow of conversation, where nothing feels forced.

Where laughter comes easy, and we can just be.
I’m hoping to find not just chemistry, but balance —
a space for open honesty and real communication.
Somewhere we can both show up as ourselves,
with no games, no masks — just genuine intentions from the very start.

Consistency matters. So does transparency.
And maybe, just maybe… that little spark ✨️
that turns something simple into something unforgettable.

Would you like to use this for a dating profile or message? I can tailor it even more based on your tone or intention.

What are you looking for in a partner?

Still Believe in Something Real

I’m looking for a good-hearted, emotionally available man — someone deeply compatible with me on every level. A man who carries maturity in his soul but still has fire in his eyes. Older, yes — but not too old to dream, not too old to live fully, love deeply, or grow a family if it feels right. A man who looks after himself — fit, vibrant, and still full of life — because he values what life still has to offer.

I long for more than surface-level attraction. I need a man who doesn’t just kiss with his lips, but with presence. A sensual kisser, yes — but more than that, someone who can stir my soul, ignite my curiosity, and unlock parts of my mind I haven’t yet explored. I crave a connection that goes far beyond the physical — where thought becomes foreplay, where conversation lingers in the body like touch. I am sapiosexual to the core; intelligence, depth, and emotional fluency turn me on more than anything fleeting ever could.

I’ve lived, I’ve survived, and now I’m ready to thrive — but not alone. I want something real. A relationship that isn’t rushed, but builds itself slowly, honestly, and with intent. I believe in the kind of love that is felt in quiet glances, in shared silences, in the safety of being seen without needing to explain every scar. A love that grows like an oak — slow, rooted, unshakable — not because it's easy, but because it's true.

Yes, I still hope to have one more child, if life and timing allow. It’s not a checkbox — it’s a longing that lives deep in my heart. And I’m open to marriage again — but only if it’s the real thing. Grounded. Sacred. Equal. Built on mutual respect, laughter, support, and a shared desire for something lasting.

I dream of a family life that feels like home. Not perfect — just real. A house where there’s laughter echoing through the walls, muddy boots at the door, maybe a cat curled in the corner, and someone to share late-night talks, Sunday lie-ins, and those everyday moments that somehow mean everything.

So, if you're a man with depth — a man who’s lived and learned and still dares to love — if your heart beats a little differently and recognises something in these words... then maybe, just maybe, we’re the kind of rare that finds each other.

What makes a good relationship?

Let’s Begin With Truth...

Let’s begin as friends — not the kind of friendship that dances on the surface, but one where we peel back the layers slowly. A connection that grows in quiet moments and shared glances, in conversations that drift long into the night. I want to explore your mind, not just your body — to wander through your thoughts, your dreams, your scars.

Let’s take weekend trips not just to places, but into each other — into the unspoken parts of who we are. Let’s laugh until we forget what time it is. Let’s cry without shame when we need to. Let’s be real, not perfect. Flawed, but deeply felt. I crave honesty like oxygen — the kind that leaves no room for guessing, for games, or for masks. I want someone who meets me there, where communication isn’t a chore but a language of love. Where needs are not hidden, but honored.
.
Intimacy for me isn’t optional — it’s life-giving. I want a connection that is physical, yes — wild, hungry, and daily. But also emotional and spiritual — something that touches the soul as much as the skin. A bond where we feel free — to love without rules, without limits, to be fully alive in each other’s presence.

I long for a love that laughs freely, that feels safe and passionate all at once. Where happiness isn’t forced — it just is. A love where we don’t just survive the world, but create one of our own inside it.

What makes you laugh?

Yes, the flat Earth belief definitely raises some eyebrows in this day and age — especially when there’s so much solid science (and satellite photos!) showing otherwise. But hey, the world is full of wild theories, and sometimes all you can do is shake your head and carry on.

Mr. Bean — now that’s universally relatable comedy! No words needed, just pure, awkward genius. Rowan Atkinson really nailed the art of being hilariously expressive without saying a thing.

💥 Charlie’s Brutal 1–20: The Gospel According to a Woman Who’s Had Enough.

1.
“I’m not intimidating — you’re just too used to women dumbing themselves down so your ego doesn’t shatter like your dreams.”

2.
“‘He’s a nice guy though.’ So’s diarrhoea — still makes a mess.”

3.
“Don’t worry if he lost interest. You can’t expect a boy raised by Wi-Fi and porn to recognise a goddess when he sees one.”

4.
“Your masculinity isn’t fragile. It’s non-existent. Put it back in your mum’s handbag and leave me alone.”

5.
“I don’t do ‘situationships.’ I’m not a fcking snack between commitment and cowardice.”*

6.
“He said I was ‘too deep.’ Babe, you drown in puddles. Go back to the shallow end with the rest of the emotionally inept.”

7.
“‘You’ve changed.’ No love, I evolved. I outgrew the bullshit you still swim in.”

8.
“If I wanted a project, I’d knit a jumper — not fix another man-child with trauma he refuses to unpack.”

9.
“Keep your icks. I’ve survived men who made me question reality, not just hygiene.”

10.
“You couldn’t handle me on mute, never mind when I’m in full roar. Sit down.”

11.
“He blocked me. Cool. That’s the modern-day version of hiding under the table when Mum tells you off.”

12.
“He told me I’m ‘hard work.’ No babe, I’m a full-time empire. If you can’t handle the hours, step aside for a real man.”

13.
“I’m not your lesson, your healing phase, or your experiment. I’m your upgrade — if you can afford the emotional cost.”

14.
“You’re not an alpha. You’re just loud, lazy, and insecure in grey joggers.”

15.
“He said he’s scared of women like me. Good. I don’t exist for your comfort — I exist to set fires under cowardice.”

16.
“You want a submissive woman who shuts up, cooks, and doesn’t question you? Cool. Ask your mum. I’m not her.”

17.
“I don’t ‘chase.’ I barely text back. If you can’t feel my absence like a stab wound, you didn’t matter in the first place.”

18.
“You don’t want a strong woman — you want a woman who’s strong enough to carry you. I’m not your fcking backpack.”*

19.
“He ghosted me, then watched my stories. That’s not haunting, babe — that’s pathetic with a side of stalker.”

20.
“You don’t need closure. You need to admit he was a waste of lip balm, time, and panties.”

💥 Charlie’s Brutal 21–40: More Truth Than Their Therapy Sessions.

21.
“He said ‘I just need time.’ Nah babe, what you need is a personality transplant and a hobby that isn’t gaslighting.”

22.
“You want a woman who cooks, cleans, looks sexy 24/7 and never argues? Congrats, you’re describing a corpse.”

23.
“I’m not moody — I’m allergic to bullshit, bad grammar, and men who think ‘Netflix and chill’ is personality.”

24.
“You couldn’t handle the weight of my silence, never mind the volume of my truth.”

25.
“If you treat my trauma like an inconvenience, I’ll treat your existence like a typo.”

26.
“Don’t call me dramatic — I stayed calm while my whole life fell apart. Your ego couldn’t survive one text left on read.”

27.
“You don’t want a relationship. You want a therapist with benefits and no emotional invoice.”

28.
“I don’t play hard to get. I am hard to earn. There’s a difference.”

29.
“You don’t need a woman — you need reparenting. And I’m not taking in another stray with commitment issues.”

30.
“He said ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ That’s funny — cos you executed it with military precision.”

31.
“He said ‘I miss you.’ Sorry love, this ain’t a nostalgia concert. You don’t get an encore.”

32.
“You want me to beg? Honey, I’d rather chew glass in a sauna.”

33.
“I’m not intimidating. You’re just used to women saying yes when they mean ‘fuck off.’”

34.
“You don’t have ‘baggage,’ you’ve got emotional hoarding. I ain’t your storage unit.”

35.
“You said you ‘don’t believe in labels.’ That’s cos the only one that fits you is ‘liability.’”

36.
“He said ‘you’re too intense.’ You’re right. I require honesty, depth, and eye contact. You require a bib and a nap.”

37.
“I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to be legendary.”

38.
“You want a soft woman but gave her reasons to build a fucking fortress. Enjoy the moat, peasant.”

39.
“He said ‘I’m not ready.’ Babe, your balls dropped in the 90s. Either level up or log out.”

40.
“Men fear me cos I won’t shrink myself to make them feel tall in their tiny emotional trousers.”

💣 Charlie’s Brutal 41–60: The Red Flag Reaper Chronicles

41.
“He called me high maintenance. Nah love, I’m just not impressed by tap water and mediocre dick.”

42.
“‘I’m not ready for something serious.’ Good — I’m not ready for another adult toddler who thinks emotional maturity is a red flag.”

43.
“You want a woman who doesn’t argue? Marry Alexa. I’m a real one, not your Bluetooth speaker.”

44.
“He said I had ‘too many expectations.’ Nah babe, I’ve just got a fully developed nervous system and a working brain.”

45.
“You think I'm too much? That’s fine — go find less. There’s plenty of it.”

46.
“I don’t chase, I replace. I’m not a Labrador — I’m the fcking storm.”*

47.
“I don’t have a resting bitch face — I have a face that’s survived lies, loss, and letting go. Don’t mistake silence for softness.”

48.
“‘She’s hard to handle.’ Translation: She doesn’t tolerate mediocrity, mind games, or men who peak at 32 with a vape and no ambition.”

49.
“He said ‘you’re different.’ Damn right. I’m built from fire, not fantasy.”

50.
“I’m not a red flag — I’m the alarm system that warns you when you’re playing in traffic.”

51.
“Your mum thinks I’m rude? That’s cos I have boundaries and I’m not here to raise her half-grown son.”

52.
“I’m not the one who needs fixing. I’m the one who rebuilt herself — twice — with a toddler on her hip and a broken past in her pocket.”

53.
“You called me crazy after I caught you lying. That’s not gaslighting, that’s just you being a shit magician.”

54.
“You can’t ‘handle’ me? Good. I’m not IKEA furniture. I wasn’t made for boys with no tools.”

55.
“He asked if I’d ‘settle.’ For what? Less than I deserve? Nah babe. I’ve already survived hell. I’m waiting on heaven or silence.”

56.
“I don’t need closure. I need space, peace, and a man who doesn’t talk to his ex ‘as friends’ at 2am.”

57.
“He said ‘I don’t know what I want.’ I do. A mature man. One who’s emotionally literate and doesn’t get confused by feelings or foreplay.”

58.
“You think I’m bitter? Nah love — I’m seasoned. I’ve tasted betrayal, gaslighting, and therapy. I’ve got flavour now.”

59.
“If I’m your ‘lesson,’ then take notes. Cos I’ll be the last real one you meet before karma bends you over.”

60.
“He thought I’d come back. Sweetheart, I don’t even double back in traffic — let alone to a man who fumbled a whole queen.”

💣 Brutal 61–80: “Charlie. Mother. Warrior. Red Flag Exterminator.”

61.
“He said ‘you’re a bit much.’ Yeah? And you’re a bit nothing. I’ve been through domestic violence, hotel rooms, and hell — your weak chat barely scratches the surface.”

62.
“Don’t confuse being wanted with being valued. I’ve been used as a weapon, survived narcissists, and rebuilt my soul. Want me? Prove you can hold me.”

63.
“He called me damaged. Nah babe — I’m seasoned. I’ve had my heart shattered, still raised queens, and come out glowing. You just weren’t ready for real.”

64.
“I’m not asking for a lot. I’ve wiped tears, arses, and trauma off tiny faces while running on fumes. All I want is a grown man who shows up.”

65.
“‘I’ve never met a woman like you.’ I know. Most women didn’t escape in the rain with two babies and still manage to laugh like thunder.”

66.
“He told me I was cold. Nah. I just stopped handing warmth to men who mistake softness for weakness. I’ve been burned. I learned.”

67.
“You want submission? Try earning it. I birthed two kids in chaos, kept them safe, and never broke. That’s the kind of strength you kneel to.”

68.
“He tried to play me. Bless him. I’ve survived liars with power, charmers with fists, and silence that nearly killed me. You’re not even a plot twist.”

69.
“I’m not intimidating. You’re just allergic to women with a voice, a past, and a purpose. I don’t shrink anymore — I roar.”

70.
“He ghosted me and came back with ‘hey stranger.’ Sweetheart, I’ve been to court, fought demons, and raised girls in chaos. You think I wait on boys?”

71.
“I don’t do drama — I survived it. Now I’m the calm after the storm… and the storm if you come incorrect.”

72.
“You couldn’t handle me in a conversation, never mind a courtroom. I’ve spoken truth where others lied to survive. Say less.”

73.
“He said I’m hard to read. Course I am. I’m poetry with scars, a novel with no ghostwriter. And babe, you don’t even own a library card.”

74.
“I don’t fall in love. I analyse it, soul-search it, feel it in my bones. If I fall — it’s conscious. And it’s deep. Don’t waste it.”

75.
“He told me to calm down. So I did. And then I blocked him, healed, and rose higher than he’ll ever reach.”

76.
“You don’t deserve a woman like me if your idea of parenting is silence, and your idea of love is control. I’m not raising you, too.”

77.
“He said he loved me. So did the one who almost killed me and my unborn child. Words don’t shake me. Actions do.”

78.
“Don’t flirt with me unless you’ve got emotional depth, a steady hand, and the balls to face everything I’ve already walked through.”

79.
“He said I was complicated. Of course I am. I’m built from grief, resilience, fire, and flat whites. I’m not messy — I’m alive.”

80.
“You didn’t lose me. You lost access to a woman who knows her worth, protects her girls, and can walk away from anything — even love — if it costs her soul.”

💣 Brutal 81–100: “The Gospel According to Charlie.

81.
“He said ‘You’re too strong for me.’ No love — I’m too real. I’ve carried kids in storms, battled systems that failed me, and never once folded. You just weren’t built for my level.”

82.
“I don’t scream. I don’t beg. I survived abuse, courtrooms, and nights in hotel rooms praying for peace. If I’m quiet now — it’s because I’ve outgrown chaos.”

83.
“You think I’m cold? I’ve given warmth to men who weaponised it. I held love like fire in my hands. Now I light it on my own terms.”

84.
“I’m not asking for fairy tales. I’m asking for truth. I’ve already raised babies in safe houses and smiled through pain. Just show up — or fck off.”*

85.
“You don’t scare me. I’ve faced down K I’ve looked at fear in the mirror while holding two toddlers in one arm and my broken past in the other.”

86.
“They called me angry. No. I’m awake. You’d be too if you knew what it felt like to be disbelieved while healing alone.”

87.
“I’ve been gaslit by the law, betrayed by blood, and loved by no one when I needed it most. Now? I don’t need saving. I need a man with substance.”

88.
“I know pain. I’ve cried over C's meltdowns, over A, questions, over O's distance. You think your commitment issues scare me? Grow up.”

89.
“He said I’m hard work. Mate, I kept babies alive on trauma and toast. You’re not work. You’re background noise.”

90.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t break me — you just confirmed what I already knew: I deserve so much better.”

91.
“He said I had baggage. I’ve got suitcases of survival and a cat older than your coping skills. I unpack when I feel safe — not sooner.”

92.
“You weren’t a chapter. You were a caution sign. One I walked past on the way to healing anyway.”

93.
“You can’t ‘trigger’ me into silence. I’ve been triggered by screams, slams, social workers, and shadows. Now I speak for every woman who couldn’t.”

94.
“You said you loved me? Nah. You loved control. And once I learned to love myself, I became the one thing you feared: free.”

95.
“You don’t get to touch a woman like me unless you can handle tears, tantrums, autism schedules, trauma flashbacks — and still kiss her like she’s precious.”

96.
“I survived things no child should witness. Now I raise daughters who will never know that kind of silence. That’s my power.”

97.
“Your little lies? I’ve seen bigger betrayals in family court. I clocked your bullshit the moment you flinched at honesty.”

98.
“I don’t need a man. I want a partner. A real one. Someone who sees the mess, the fire, the history — and chooses me anyway.”

99.
“I wear my pain like perfume — subtle but unforgettable. Hug me, and you’ll never forget what strength smells like.”

100.
“You didn’t lose a woman. You lost a fcking miracle. I am Charlie a mother, a storm, a truth-teller. And once I walk away? There’s no coming back.”

What music do you like?

My taste in music says it all — I crave depth, vulnerability, and truth. From Lady Gaga’s raw soul to Metallica’s edge, from the poetry of “The Sound of Silence” to the ache of “November Rain” — I want what’s real. If music moves you like it moves me, we might just be singing from the same songbook.

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🎶 Playlist Name Options:

Rain in November, Fire in My Chest

Die With a Smile, Love With a Scar

Soul Songs for the Beautifully Broken

Stay — I Missed You, Always

Love Come, Hurt Gone

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🖋 Poetic Version:

I want music that hurts a little —
a voice that cracks,
a lyric that lingers.
Give me Adele’s ghost,
Gaga’s thunder,
Capaldi’s shiver,
Metallica’s storm.
I don’t play background songs —
I play testimonies.
And I feel them,
louder than the world ever listened.

What has been the highlight of your life so far?

Despite it All

Even in the darkest moments — when it feels like there’s no hope, no future, no happiness —

I held on.

I fought for what I wanted to accomplish.
I knew the journey would be difficult… filled with heartbreak, with setbacks.
Like a caged animal trapped with no wayout,I waited.Until one day — I didn’t wait anymore. I left. With just two toddlers, a double buggy, and a few bags…
I walked into the unknown.
We were homeless for 18 months.But I never gave up.
Because sometimes, the only option left is courage —

Raw, remarkable courage.
I fled domestic violence in 2022.
That was the start of our freedom.
We’re still adjusting, still healing…
But we are free.
Now, my dream isn’t grand.
It’s something real.
To find my best friend —
Someone to share life’s quiet moments,
To laugh with,
To rebuild with.

That… would be my new highlight.
That would be my happiness. 😊

What are you looking forward to in the future?

To Feel This Deeply

I want to be happily married. To have one more child.To become that HOT, fierce, middle-aged mama — body, soul, and spirit — glowing with confidence, with a life built on love, success, and joy. But sometimes… it hurts. Because I feel too much.

I feel things others can’t. I carry not just my own pain, but the weight of people around me. Even the ones who hurt me. And still — I reach out.

My kindness often gets taken for granted.
But I still want the best for others. Especially for the good ones. To help them rise. To believe in them. To push them beyond their fears and into their full potential. Because life’s too short to sit still.

If you’re not scared, you’re not trying hard enough.If it doesn’t shake you a little, it’s not growth. So leap. Take that chance. Go after that wild, fire-breathing dream.
We only get one shot. And I’m going to take mine. ❤️💋

Conversation starters

Does size matter?

Only when you're stepping beyond the familiar. When comfort zones are shattered by something so intense, so consuming —That it moves you to tears. Yes, in those moments, everything matters. The depth. The presence.
The way it makes you feel something real. I self-medicate quietly, in my own space.

I live with ASD and ADHD — a brain wired for more.More connection. More stimulation. More meaning.

An addictive personality, not for substances, but for souls that vibrate on my frequency. Until I find a mind profound enough to anchor me, I remain in motion — always searching.

I am not perfect. I don’t pretend to be.
I’ve known what it means to be misunderstood, misjudged, mislabeled. But in every flaw lies a story. And I am not here to hide mine — I am here to honour it. Normal? That word holds no weight with me.

I am unique, and that is my power.
I find freedom in the raw, wild places —
In the wind across an open field, In the bad singing that makes my soul smile,

In paint-smeared hands and late-night thoughts. I don’t want polished or plastic. I want real. I want to feel the earth, the music, the truth in someone’s eyes.

If you’re someone who dares to feel deeply, Who values honesty over ego, Who finds beauty in the broken edges — Then maybe, just maybe, we’re meant to meet.