By skyforbes A reminder that empathy, not excitement, is what makes love last.
Screenshot from TikTok video by Davi
You know how you scroll through TikTok after a long day — just wanting to laugh at something silly, or distract yourself with a recipe you’ll never actually make? That was me one night. I was looking for noise, not meaning.
Then I stumbled on this video by a guy named Davi, talking about marriage. His voice was calm, deliberate — the kind that sounds like it’s learned things the hard way. “Your husband will literally have to guide you through the death of both of your parents,” he said. “So choose that man wisely.”
I thought I was ready for something profound. I wasn’t.
Because suddenly, I was brought back to a year I’ve tried so hard to forget — the year I lost my father. The year I saw, with painful clarity, what kind of marriage I was really in.
Davi’s words hit a nerve because they reminded me that when life tests love, not everyone shows up. Some people look away. Some people disappear emotionally long before they ever leave. And that realization — that quiet, cruel truth — was what finally broke something in me.
I had endured so much already. The silence. The distance. The constant carefulness around someone who was supposed to be my home. But it wasn’t until my father died — until I lost the one person who had loved me without condition — that I finally saw things as they were.
More than the mental, verbal, emotional, physical, or even sexual pain, it was the disrespect toward my father’s memory that became the final nail in the coffin of my marriage. Because when someone can’t honor the man who raised you, they’ve already stopped honoring you.
So when Davi said those words — about choosing a man who can sit with you through grief, who can handle the silence of the waiting room, who doesn’t make tragedy about himself — I felt every syllable in my bones.
Because that’s what love is supposed to look like. Not perfection, but presence. Not grand gestures, but genuine empathy.
So to the women out there scrolling the way I was — be picky, but about the right things. Don’t choose based on charm, confidence, or convenience. Don’t confuse age with wisdom. My husband is twenty-five years older than me, and still somehow the most emotionally unready man in the room.
Choose kindness. Choose empathy. Choose the one who doesn’t flinch when the hard parts come. Because life will come for all of us — and when it does, you’ll need more than butterflies. You’ll need someone who knows how to hold your heart without dropping it.
PS:
If this found you when you needed it, maybe it was meant to.
PPS:
Don’t ignore the small red flags. They always turn into sirens.
About the Author:
Tita Friday writes about life, love, and the moments that quietly redefine both. Her work blends warmth, wit, and wisdom — a gentle reminder that strength doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it just decides to begin again.