đŻ I married a woman 18 years older than me. On our wedding night, when I woke up at three in the morning, I saw that she wasnât in bed.
Iâve always been different from my peers. While they went to parties and used dating apps to find love, I preferred books, deep conversations, and wise womenâthose with experience.
I was looking for a companion who could inspire me. Then, one day, I met CĂ©leste. She was the epitome of a mature woman, with rare wisdom. A former director with a soft voice that exuded wisdom and reflection accumulated over the years.
Where other women often got lost in trivial chatter, CĂ©leste had the rare ability to ask profound questions, to really listen. She had the elegance of the great movie stars of the 1950s, a timeless beauty.
She was 18 years older than me, a detail that, deep down, never stopped me. On the contrary, her experience fascinated me even more.
In two months, I knew she was the one, the one I wanted to spend my life with. So, I proposed to her. She accepted, with a tender smile.
However, on our wedding night, a strange feeling overtook me. At three in the morning, I woke up with a start. CĂ©leste wasnât by my side, and instead of her, there was…
The rest of my story is in the article in the first comment đđđ.
Instead of CĂ©leste, there was a silicone mannequin.
Although disturbed, I felt a strange curiosity rather than an irrational fear.
CĂ©leste explained that she preferred to sleep separately for a while.
The night after that strange incident, I decided to ask her questions, to understand her choices.
She confided in me that she had gone through intense experiences that led her to seek a balance between her personal needs and life as a couple.
CĂ©leste didnât just need space; she also wanted to preserve a part of her independence.
Eventually, I understood that love isnât just a fusion but a delicate dance between closeness and freedom, and paradoxically, thatâs what made our relationship even stronger.
