A Theoretical Love

The so-called “honeymoon phase” is nothing but a temporary exchange of emotional hunger, build up sexual need, and latest fantasy projection.
There is nothing holy about it.
There is nothing real about it.
It is simply two people feeding from each other’s needs before the system stabilizes.

A fucking bullshit.

I approach early-stage relationships the way a theoretical physicist approaches an experiment. Not with suspicion, not with emotional defense, but with a structural curiosity about how systems behave under shifting conditions. I do not see people as psychological puzzles. I see them as energy systems. Every human being carries a field that can remain stable or become unstable. This has nothing to do with trauma or avoidance. It has everything to do with how energy responds to influence when life is shared with another entity.

For most people, the beginning of a relationship is emotional softness, receiving temporary love, fulfilling touch, and satisfying the alter ego.

"Omg Gunes, this time is different, I swear. I am so in love with him..."

For me, the beginning is observation. Even in my friendships, it goes like this.
My emotions exist, I feel deeply, but I do not let those feelings shape the system before I understand its structure.

I evaluate because I am searching for long-term compatibility, not temporary pleasure. I want to see if someone can handle me before I give them access to my heaven. And I do this so smoothly that only a few out of a hundred ever notice.

This is why Schrödinger and Heisenberg became the closest metaphors to my relational approach. Schrödinger described a system that holds two states at the same time until observation collapses it into one.
Early romance functions the same way for me. A person is both compatible and incompatible, emotionally grounded and emotionally volatile, promising and limited.
This duality is not contradiction.
It is unmeasured potential.
And there is nothing wrong with it.
This is simply how human energy behaves before stabilization of a comfort zone.
Not all beings are compatible tho.

Falling and Rising exist in both.

I test stability through shift of lives, not mood nor emotional manipulation.
I am not cruel in love.
But when my energy shifts, life doesn't go as they planned, I need to see how theirs responds.
A stable system adapts.
An unstable system tries to control the shift.
And the more they try to control it, the more the shift escapes them.

This is how I observe their center of gravity.
I want to see how a person behaves in the moment they cannot control the direction.
Do they panic?
Do they collapse?
Do they distort the entire dynamic to regain dominance?
Or do they remain coherent even when the structure around them moves?

I am looking for a Heisenberg.
Not the cat man trapped in an experiment
but the one who understood the absurdity behind it.
Not a Schrödinger.
In physics, Heisenberg showed that observation changes the system, but some systems can withstand this change without losing their identity.
That is what matters most to me in love:
not someone who performs stability when everything is easy,
but someone who remains themselves when intimacy increases the measurement and the energy between us shifts.

I wanna learn the shape of his soul before given mine unconditionally.

When the emotional field tightens, when uncertainty rises, people reveal their real composition.
Some sharpen.
Some scatter.
Some collapse entirely.
And some — the rare ones — reorganize themselves into a more stable version of who they already were.

You cannot see this in the first week.
You cannot see it in the first month.
You see it when the wave collapses.

This collapse usually arrives around the sixth month as I said.
Something shifts.
Something becomes clear.
The mask drops.
The system shows its actual nature.
Emotional electrons jump states.
Internal forces reorganize.
The relationship either stabilizes into something that can evolve or collapses into something that never had structure.

But in real life, I do not always wait six months.
There are three conditions under which I open the box early.

The first is mercy.
Sometimes the “cat” is screaming so loudly that keeping the box closed becomes cruelty.
This is the partner who is overwhelmed, restless, unable to tolerate the unknown.
They break themselves against the pressure, and I open the box out of compassion.
I let the cat go.

The second is damage.
This is when the cat becomes unstable, when the energy turns destructive, when their reactions begin volatile and harming itself. When their attempt to control the love, own me fully to make me theirs, turns them into a masochist, consumed by obsession of winning.
This is when the box becomes dangerous to them.
I let the cat go.

The third, and rarest, is recognition.
This is when the cat jumps into the box willingly.
The person already understands what I am doing, smart enough to read it.
They sense the experiment, sense the observation, and do not run from it.
They do not demand control, they evolve within it.
They do not panic at the shift, they love it gently, warm like the sun.
They align with my energy because they are built from the same material of my soul.
This is the one who collapses the wave early by showing clarity.
I keep that man until forever.
I stay by his side until my last breath.
My Heisenberg...My Dante, My Sky, My King.

The reason I open the box — whether at six months or earlier — has nothing to do with choosing a perfect partner.
Perfection means nothing to me.
I am not looking for a superhero or a light to my soul.
I am not looking for someone who tries to control the shift.

I am looking for someone who can withstand it, survive it, transform through it,
and meet me on the other side without losing their identity.
I want to understand the architecture of their darkness, I wanna see their soul before given mine by knowing he is the one.

What matters is how it behaves under pressure.
Do they weaponize it?
Do they drown in it?
Do they abandon themselves?
Or do they integrate it?

My question has never been “Is this person ideal?”

My question is:
“Is this someone I can become his without a single doubt that would eat my existence alive?”

Can their energy stabilize when mine shifts?
Can they hold their center when the relationship becomes real?
Can they exist honestly when the measurement increases?
Can they stay when my demons take the stage and still see me when I am an angel?
Can they read me like a poem even with their eyes closed?
Can they taste the divine in my lips without turning it into perversion of fantasy?
Can they stand in the space where love is neither feeding the ego nor flattering the self, but simply existing like a bird carrying a message?

Because I can love a hero and I can love a villain.
And most importantly, I can be the both too.
What I cannot love is someone who collapses under their own existence.

At the end of all this theory, all the observation, all the energy and collapse and clarity, it comes down to something simple. I love because I want to build a life, not a performance. I measure because I want something that lasts, not something that entertains. I never needed temporary validation from someone’s affection or attachment. I don’t need apologies performed for comfort.
And I don’t need to offer my body under a single moonlight night just to feel chosen.
I test stability because I give everything I am, once I choose someone.

And that part of me — the real part, the soft part, the loyal part — can’t be given to someone who cannot hold their own weight in the world.
My love is not an experiment. My method is only the doorway I use to protect the depth behind it.

When the right person arrives, the box disappears, the theories fall quiet, the systems settle, and what remains is just two human beings choosing each other with clarity, not uncertainty. I would love that for you, best of luck!