A Pretense of Love at First Sight, Then the Fleeing Deer
"If you let me walk away today, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life."
Late March. A café terrace. Wind brushed his throat as he leaned across the glass table with that single line.
Susan sipped her iced Americano and smiled. Such a worn-out cliché.
So why did her heart riot?
That night she lay in bed, eyes opening and closing like shutters. The word forever rang in her ears.
He was, in truth, the fifth man in the experiment.
Susan opened her notes.
[Day 1] Odds 80 % (he spoke first).
She knew the steps: who buckles first, how cruel to be, when to soothe. Only one rule was ironclad:
Never like first.
The Hidden Equation: Distance Makes the Hunger Grow
Two hundred women said the same thing: love is no fair game.
- 73 % withheld their phone numbers for at least a week after meeting.
- 61 % let a confession sit unread for a day or two.
- 89 % did not answer at once.
Why?
"If I like him less, he chases like mad."
—Ji-eun, 28, anonymous interview
To them, love is not horizontal exchange but vertical domination: who stands above, who below. The cruelest clause? Whoever confesses first loses.
Testimony 1: The Hunter Without a Name
I met a man who called himself Yoon-seop.
I was twenty-two, wearing white slippers, in a PC bang at 3:47 a.m. A private message flashed:
Are you alone right now?
I answered instantly. After that we talked every night. It was dating, minus identity.
On the 124th day I asked to meet. The door opened; a tall man in a plain T-shirt.
"Sorry. I’m not into you." He turned and left.
I cried for days and quit the chat. A month later he returned:
"Back then you were too easy—no fun."
Testimony 2: Laura’s Method
Laura, 34, worked for a foreign firm. Every Thursday she sat in the same Hongdae café, same white dress, same table.
Men approached; she froze them. The more distant she was, the larger the swarm. She logged:
[Today: 3 → 7 increase]
One caught her eye—Joon-hyeok, a designer her age. For two weeks she circled him and ignored him.
On the fifteenth day he asked, “Why don’t you care about me?”
Laura smiled for the first time.
"Starting now, I’m going to care a lot."
Gifts, texts, invitations poured forth. Joon-hyeok was snared. Two months later Laura ended it.
"Why?"
"The hunt is over."
Why Do We Sink Into This Hellish Formula?
Psychologists say humans devalue what comes too easily. Love that arrives gift-wrapped feels counterfeit.
But the deeper reason is control—the illusion that we can steer another’s feelings, the thrill of knowing we can bolt out of reach. That is the lie we call love.
"Love isn’t two people running toward each other; it’s two blades charging."
—Anonymous woman, 31, 2019 survey
Are You Hunting Someone Right Now?
Susan couldn’t sleep last night either. Nine hours since she left Yoon-seop on read.
How tormented is he? The thought thrilled her.
She lifted her phone—then set it down.
Why did we learn only how to hurt while claiming to love?
And whom do you wish to keep bound, and for how long?
Look at your hand—does it hold a blade?