It Was Good to Feel Again

I had a dinner with a TikToker (with 90K+ followers) for the first time. And it was fascinating.

There’s a kind of connection that doesn’t ask for permission, it just arrives. Unannounced. No warning, no build-up. Just a quiet, steady unfolding of energy between two people who are actually paying attention. That’s what happened the night I met the TikTok influencer.

There were no cocktails, no mood lighting, just green tea, sparkling water, and conversation that moved freely between us. I didn’t feel the need to overthink. He spoke with clarity and intention. Not flashy or performative, just honest. And I listened, not out of politeness, but because I genuinely wanted to. There was something in the way he engaged that made the moment feel worth leaning into.

And then, without fanfare, it happened. That hum.

That moment wasn’t about what this could become, it was about remembering what it feels like to be fully awake in my own experience.

Not butterflies. Not fantasy. Something subtler, deeper. A flicker in my chest, a warmth across my shoulders, like a part of me that had been quiet finally stirred. Not because of who he was, but because of how I felt with him: wanted, engaged, awake.

We talked about creativity, content, discipline. I opened up about my hesitation, how I’ve started projects, written drafts, but held back from publishing. I admitted I’d been afraid of visibility. Instead of judgment, he offered encouragement. A few sparks. Some laughter. A sense of possibility.

No, it wasn’t perfect. Maybe the moment was just one story in a week full of them. Maybe he’s already turned the evening into content. Maybe none of it will matter in a month.

But here’s what does matter: I felt something real.

For a few hours, I was fully present. Not performing. Not doubting. Not wondering how I looked or whether I was saying the right thing. I was just there. Steady. Curious. Grounded. And I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt that kind of ease with someone new.

So although it may have been just a one-chapter thing, it’s not a loss. Not even close.

Because that moment wasn’t about what this could become, it was about remembering what it feels like to be fully awake in my own experience. To be open. To be moved. To trust that something brief can still be meaningful.

This wasn’t just a date or dinner. It was a reminder.

I still believe in unexpected beauty. And I’m still capable of feeling it. And it was good to feel again.