I've been sitting on this story for weeks, not sure how to tell it.

Not because it's complicated—though it is. But because some love stories are so real, so unapologetically themselves, that you want to make sure you get them right.

You know what pisses me off about relationship advice? They sell you this fairy tale where "opposites attract" means she likes coffee and he likes tea. Cute differences that fit into neat little boxes.

Fuck that noise.

Real love isn't about complementary hobbies. It's about finding someone brave enough to love all your contradictions.

Here's the thing about Lorelai and Steffen—they shouldn't work on paper. At all.

Two months before they met, she'd blown up her entire life. Left her marriage, lost weight, threw money around like confetti, traveled constantly. The woman with pink hair who gave herself a new name and refused to depend on anyone ever again.

He was sleeping in his flatmate's kitchen. Quiet activist who'd been living minimally and sustainably for over a decade. Poetic, sensitive, completely lost about what came next.

The wedding industry wants you to believe love looks like matching Pinterest boards and complementary Myers-Briggs types.

But real attraction? That's about finding someone who wants to be exactly who they are, just like you do. Someone willing to fight for their own story.

Steffen told her after their first date he was sure he'd never see her again. He felt "unassuming and uninteresting" compared to this beacon of light who could have anyone. She was honest—maybe brutally so—and told him not to get too attached because she moved on quickly.

But here's what I learned shooting them six years later: they didn't change each other. They gave each other permission to become more of who they already were.

She's 60% vegan now, burns for housing justice, blasts political German rap. He's traveled to 15 countries, developed style (his piercing has to match his watch), discovered techno. Not because they compromised. Because love created space for growth.

Their first date was in a book telephone booth in the middle of Tempelhofer Feld. Rain falling outside, people running past, but smiling when they saw these two souls deep in conversation on the floor of this tiny glass sanctuary.

You know that feeling when you meet someone and suddenly the world makes more sense? Not because they complete you—that's bullshit. Because they see you exactly as you are and think, "Yeah, this works."

The moment she knew Steffen was different wasn't some grand gesture or perfect romantic scene. It was him lying next to her, looking into her eyes, and offering to meet a part of her that most people would find too complicated, too much.

When Lorelai reached out about this session, she told me something that hit me right in the chest: "We have almost no photos together." Here's a woman who photographs everyone she loves because she finds them beautiful, but she's spent years running from cameras herself.

"I don't need stupid depictions of us," she said. "I want pictures that show us as we really are. Compassionate, artistic, unique. Real."

Fuck, I felt that.

How many of us have convinced ourselves we're not ready for photos? Not the right size, not photogenic enough, not worthy of being the main character in our own damn love story?

During our session, I watched two people who've learned to love each other's contradictions. The way Steffen looks at Lorelai like she's both mystery and home. How her hand finds his without thinking—the same instinct that's guided them for six years.

They told me about perfect days that don't follow any template. Tiny houses surrounded by nature. Deep conversations that last until dawn. Wandering through Kreuzberg. Sharing a single blanket on the couch (separate blankets are absolutely forbidden in their world).

The common thread isn't the activity. It's being present with each other, having real conversations, and giving zero fucks about external pressure.

This is what courage looks like in love. Not performing for an audience. Building something real in private and then stepping into the light, unashamed.