The Illusion of You

Philosophers have warned us for centuries… people do not fall in love with others, but with the projections they cast upon them. Honestly…I think they were right; I see it happen in my own and friends’ lives all the time. Plato wrote about the ideal forms, the perfect versions of things that don’t exist in our naturally messy human world. Lacan suggests that desire itself is built from illusion. Simone de Beauvoir said that womanhood is often a screen for men’s fantasies.

There is a version of you that lives in another's mind, stitched together only from glimpses, a fantasy, and maybe their own longing. They are always the reflection they hope to see. But they are not you… They are an idea of you. Sadly, the idea is often more comforting than the real thing. It’s not new… but I think we are living in the times were it gets accelerated a little more than ever.

In the generation of social media, we get filtered glimpses and reels into others' very curated, picture-perfect lives. It makes it easier than ever to create stories or opinions on people, than actually get to know them. We meet strangers already half mythologised and fully interpreted, even before we’ve heard their voice notes. It’s tragic, really. We start to choose friends and partners the way we choose products, shopping for aesthetics, vibes and maybe even the promise of how they could elevate our own self-image. You know… shopping for a boyfriend the way we shop for a new bag.

I don’t think we date people anymore; I think we date the roles we imagine they could play for us.

I think there’s a very gentle violence in projection. You know, in those early stages of meeting someone, the idealism could even be flattering. Someone sees your glow, your potential, but are they really admiring you, or the version of you that plays into their script?

And that script is a highly fragile thing…because, when the real you emerges, the human one, who is layered, who contradicts their fantasy… the bubble goes pop! Some panic, some pull away or even worse, youre punished for being the exact thing they refused to see: you. Simply, the real you.

I’ve dated men who built entire universes around who they thought I was. In their minds, I was the perfect matcha-drinking yogi who is serene, soft, endlessly grounded. The girl who meditates every sunrise and never, by God, never misbehaves by sunset.

The real me? She loves rock ’n’ roll. She orders a vodka martini and lights a cigarette without blinking. Shocking, I know. Apparently, yogis aren’t allowed to have a personality outside eucalyptus oil and “namaste.” I’m spiritual, absolutely, I’ll read you like one of my tarot decks, but I’m also wild, impulsive, intuitive, razor-sharp, and deeply feeling.

And when that version appears, the men who idealised me act betrayed. As if they had been lied to. As if my multidimensionality was a personal attack. As if the collapse of their fantasy was somehow my fault.

But here’s the truth: it was never my job to maintain the character they cast me into.

I think ultimately, idealising someone is our shortcut into comfort. If I get to decide who you are before you reveal yourself then… I’m ‘safe’. I get to bypass the emotional intimacy, avoid any uncertainty and also the discomfort of truly meeting you. Reality demands presence and engagement, but illusion? well it needs nothing but a daydream.

The idealised version of someone cannot challenge you, disappoint you, or ask you to grow with them. But a real person - oh, they can and they will. That's why the fantasy must shatter; it's the only doorway into actual intimacy. There is always a moment where the truth and fantasy collide, not because anything has changed but because you finally see each other, and that moment is precious - that's where the real relationship begins.

If someone pulls away, it means they were never with you, only the dream. Most heartbreaks come not from who you are but the death of who they imagined you to be. My hope is that we can all find someone that is interested in the loving of a person, not a projection.

Most philosophers argue that love is a collison of two worlds, not the merging into one, its two paths walking side by side. To love someone is to let them remain themselves and to be loved is to be seen in your wholeness, your contradictions, your pure humanity.

There is also nothing wrong with being idealised, its an unavoidable part of first impressions. But the bad part is sustaining that illusion. To shrink yourself into a projection. Because you deserved to be loved in all shapes of you, to let the idea die so the real you can live, let your edges soften, let people meet you sooner, let them know you prefer a vodka martini over a matcha and just be the you that dances barefoot to Led Zeppelin. If they are still scared off? Congratulations, you just saved yourself a decent six months of time.

The idea of you may be adored, even worshipped but they cannot offer or receive any real connection. Only the real you can do that. Being known is not a gentle thing but like the truth, its the most liberating. The best part, when the illusion slips away, whoever stays… is loving the real you.