Her Smile Broke Down All My Walls
I never thought it would happen. That I’d feel butterflies again. That someone’s gaze could warm the cold corners I had locked away for years. But Anna… she had that smile. Real, warm, with a hint of mischief. The kind of smile that says: “You can be yourself. No need to pretend.”
We met on lovebbw.com. At first, I was just messaging casually — more out of curiosity than hope. But Anna was different. She wasn’t trying to impress. She didn’t mold herself to fit in. In her very first message she wrote, “I don’t know if you’re ready for a woman who laughs loud and says what she thinks.
But if you are — hi, I’m Anna.” And I stayed. We wrote each other for weeks. Every single day. I started my mornings with her messages and ended my nights with her stories. She had something disarming about her — maybe that’s why I asked to meet up sooner than I usually would. She agreed right away. “But only if we go to karaoke. I like when people show they don’t have to be perfect,” she wrote.
Karaoke. It sounds silly, but for me, it was a big deal. I hated performing. I was never the life of the party. But something in me cracked open. I wanted to show her I could try — just for her.
We met at a small bar tucked away on a quiet side street. When she walked in, I swear the whole place paused for a second. She wore a simple navy dress and had her hair tied loosely in a bun, with one strand rebelliously escaping. But it wasn’t the outfit that drew attention — it was that smile. The one I already knew from the screen, only now it was real. And it was for me.
-“Chase?” - she asked.
-“Anna,” - I smiled. - “Ready to embarrass me?”
-“Always,” - she grinned, pulling me by the hand toward our table.
We ordered a beer each. Talked like old friends. No awkward silences. Her laugh was contagious, and everything she said landed exactly where it needed to. Then, the stage lights came on.
-“Shall we?” - she asked, and I nervously swallowed.
-“You only live once, right?”
We sang “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” I was horrendously off-key, but she never stopped smiling. During the chorus, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into a goofy little dance. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I just felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
After our performance, we returned to the table. There was silence — but not the awkward kind. The kind where nothing more needs to be said.
-“You know,” - she said, looking at me more seriously than before, - “I really like you. And not because of your singing. Because... you can’t sing.”
-“And I really admire you,” - I replied. - “Because you are exactly who you are. And that’s all I need.”
She smiled again. That same smile. And I knew that night had changed something in me. Not just because I did something bold. But because I found a woman who didn’t want me to be someone else. Who truly saw me — and stayed. And so did I.