There’s a rhythm to life that cannot be rushed. Some days, it moves slowly, measured in quiet mornings, the soft hum of routine, the gentle cadence of prayer. Other days, it accelerates in bursts of laughter, the rush of activity, the unplanned moments that catch you by surprise. And somewhere within that ebb and flow, there exists a rhythm for love, subtle, deliberate, and almost imperceptible.

I have often wrestled with the tension between friendships and relationships, and if I am honest, it hasn’t always been pretty. In my early twenties, friendships were everything to me. They were my constant, my safety net, my family outside of family. I had friends who knew me better than anyone else did. Those women became my home when I didn’t feel like I had one elsewhere. For years, I believed that loyalty was proof they should always come first, no matter what man walked into my life. My girls always stayed, surely that had to count for more than any passing romantic love?

There’s a quote that’s been circulating through my mind like a persistent echo: “The right man will be scared to touch you too early.” At first glance, it might appear rather old-fashioned, something your grandmother would whisper whilst adjusting your neckline before a church service. Yet here’s the profound realisation: after stepping back from the digital dating chaos that constitutes modern romance, I’ve come to see this sentiment holds more wisdom than all the dating apps combined. In many ways, it echoes the biblical principle that love is patient, love is kind, it doesn’t demand its own way in haste.

There’s a quiet kind of strength in a woman whose life is already abundant. Rain or shine, solo or side-by-side, her days are not defined by who does or doesn’t share them. She wakes with purpose, moves with intention, and delights in the joys she’s cultivated herself. Another’s presence may join the rhythm, perhaps it has, perhaps it will but it never overwrites the story already in motion.