I (32F) thought I’d met my soulmate three months ago. His name is Jake (35M), and our first date was the kind of thing you see in movies. We met at a coffee shop for what was supposed to be a quick meetup, and we ended up talking for five straight hours.
The conversation just never stopped. He asked me these deep, thoughtful questions—not the usual “what do you do for work” stuff, but real questions about my dreams, my childhood, what makes me feel alive.
At the end of the night, he took my hand and looked me right in the eyes.
“I know this is fast,” he said, “but I feel like I’ve known you forever. I love you.”
I should’ve run. I KNOW that now. But in that moment? It didn’t feel crazy.
It felt like the universe was telling me something. Like maybe this was what people meant when they talked about “when you know, you know.”
So I said it back. I told him I loved him too.
Things moved fast after that. Really fast. But it all felt so natural, you know? Like we were just on the same wavelength. He’d text me these long, thoughtful messages about how special I was.
He introduced me to his friends after three weeks. I met his mom. Everyone in his life seemed to adore him, and they all welcomed me with open arms.
I thought I’d finally figured it out. After years of bad relationships and guys who couldn’t commit, I’d found someone who was all in from day one.
But then weird things started happening.
Little things at first. Like, I’d notice he’d say certain phrases over and over. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” “You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met.” “I knew from the moment I saw you.” I figured everyone has their go-to expressions, right? I didn’t think much of it.
Then, about a month ago, we were out with his friends at a bar. Jake took my hand across the table—he does that a lot, this tender hand-holding thing—and one of his buddies, Mike, literally snorted into his beer. “Oh shit, Jake’s doing the hand thing again,” he said, and the whole group burst out laughing.
I looked at Jake, confused. “What hand thing?”
Jake’s face went completely blank. Like, scary blank.
Mike tried to backtrack. “Oh, nothing, just an inside joke. Don’t worry about it.”
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What did “again” mean? Again with me, or again with… someone else?
I tried to bring it up with Jake later that night, but he brushed it off. Said his friends were just drunk and being idiots. But something in his voice felt off. And once I noticed that, I started noticing other things.
Like how he’d tell the same stories in the exact same way, with the same pauses and emphasis, like he’d rehearsed them. Or how when I’d share something personal, he’d respond with these perfectly calibrated reactions—not too much, not too little, just enough to make me feel seen. It started to feel… mechanical.
I felt crazy even thinking it. This man loved me. He told me every day. He was planning our future together. We’d literally talked about moving in together next month.
But my gut wouldn’t shut up.
So last week, I did something I’m not proud of. Jake was in the shower, and his laptop was open on the couch. I told myself I was just going to close it. Put it away. But instead, I looked at the screen.
There was a folder right there on his desktop. The name made my blood run cold: “First Dates System.”
My hands were shaking as I clicked on it.
Inside were documents. Like, actual training manuals. “How to Create Chemistry on Date 1 – Complete Guide.pdf” “Physical Escalation Timeline – Week by Week.doc” “Key Phrases That Build Emotional Connection.pdf”
I opened the first one. It was like reading a script for my entire relationship.
“Create undivided attention by maintaining eye contact and asking deep, personal questions. Reference specific details she mentions later to demonstrate you were listening.”
“At the end of the first date, initiate light physical contact. Take her hand. Say: ‘I know this is fast, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.’ Pause. Then: ‘I love you.’ Success rate: 87%.”
I felt like I was going to throw up.
There were more files. SO many more. Guides on how to introduce her to friends (“week 3-4 optimal timing”), how to handle her insecurities (“validate but don’t over-praise”), how to create the feeling of a deep soul connection (“mirror her communication style and emotional intensity”).
And then I found a folder with my name on it.
Inside were notes. Detailed notes about me. Things I’d told him in private—about my dad leaving when I was seven, about my ex who cheated, about how I always felt like I wasn’t enough.
Next to each note were tags: “use for vulnerability bonding week 4,” “bring up during conflict to redirect,” “reference during future planning phase.”
The shower turned off.
I don’t even remember what I said when Jake walked out. I just remember screaming. Holding the laptop up and screaming. He tried to calm me down, said I was “misunderstanding,” that this was just “self-improvement material” from a dating coach he’d worked with years ago.
“Years ago?” I said. “There are notes about ME in here. From last week.”
He went quiet. Then he sat down on the couch, and I swear to God, he looked almost… annoyed. Like I’d caught him doing something mildly embarrassing, not something completely psychotic.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Yes. I use a system. I’ve been using it for a while now. It works.”
“A SYSTEM?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’ve been MANIPULATING me?”
“I wouldn’t call it manipulation,” he said, so calm it was terrifying. “I call it being intentional. Look, most guys just stumble through dating, hoping things work out. I studied what actually creates attraction and connection. I learned the techniques. And yeah, I applied them with you. But so what? It worked. You fell in love with me. We’re happy. Why does it matter how we got here?”
I just stared at him. This man I thought I knew. This man I’d been planning a future with.
“Did you ever actually love me?” I asked. “Or was that part of the script too?”
He looked genuinely confused by the question. “Of course I love you. The system is just about creating the foundation. The feelings that develop are real.”
I grabbed my stuff and left that night. I’m at my sister’s place now, sleeping on her couch, trying to process what the hell just happened.
But here’s what’s really messing me up: I can’t tell what was real. Like, when I felt that electric chemistry on our first date—was that genuine, or was I just responding exactly how his manual predicted I would? When he held my hand and told me he loved me, and I felt like my heart was going to explode—was that real emotion, or was I being programmed?
Every single “special moment” we had, I now know he’d engineered. The spontaneous weekend trip? Planned according to the timeline. The way he’d text me at exactly the right moments when I was feeling insecure? Calculated. The deep conversations that made me feel so seen? Scripted questions from a PDF.
I’ve been going through the documents he had. Apparently he’s been doing this for YEARS. Multiple relationships, all following the same pattern. The same “I love you” on date one. The same tender hand-holding. The same introduction-to-friends timeline. I was just the latest version, and according to his notes, I was “responding well to the program.”
My friends are split on this. Half of them are furious on my behalf, saying he’s a sociopath and I need to warn other women. The other half are trying to be diplomatic, saying that yeah, it’s weird, but lots of guys learn “game” and use techniques, and if I was happy before I found out, does the method really matter?
But I can’t stop thinking about it. Every memory I have is tainted now. Was any of it real? Did I actually fall in love with HIM, or did I fall in love with a character he was playing? And if all my feelings were manufactured… what does that say about me?
I don’t trust myself anymore. I don’t trust my judgment, my intuition, my feelings. How am I supposed to date again when I can’t tell the difference between genuine connection and sophisticated manipulation?
So, I’m asking: Was I in a real relationship, or was I just participating in someone’s social experiment? Am I overreacting to what’s apparently just “modern dating strategy,” or is this as fucked up as it feels?
And the question that keeps me up at night: If everything he did was calculated… did I ever actually love him at all, or was I just in love with a script?
What would you do?
