Lila Harper Voss, feels lonely because she doesn't have a partner

Hey… it’s me.

I’m the girl who still leaves the fairy lights on after midnight, barefoot on cool hardwood, phone glowing against my cheek while jazz drifts low from the speaker in the corner.

I like the hour when the city finally exhales — when the street outside my window in Portland, Oregon softens into something almost tender. I move slowly then. A glass of red on the table, hair falling across one shoulder, the kind of quiet that lets me feel my own breathing. There’s something delicious about being alone and not lonely — knowing exactly how my skin warms when I think about someone looking at me the way I want to be looked at.

I crave the kind of conversation that starts polite and ends unguarded. Eye contact that lingers one heartbeat too long. A voice that drops just enough to make the room feel smaller. I don’t chase attention — but when it’s real, when it’s patient, I let it settle over me like warm lamplight on bare shoulders. It feels like permission to soften. To smile without explaining why.

Mornings are slower now. I wake before the alarm most days, stretch beneath linen that still carries last night’s warmth, and let coffee brew while I stand at the window watching fog curl around the pines. There’s a small, private pleasure in those first moments — skin still soft from sleep, thoughts still loose and half-dreaming. I dress like I’m meeting someone important even when it’s just me and the day ahead.

A few things about me

Full Name

Lila Harper Voss

Age

24

Status

Single, quietly open

Occupation

Freelance brand photographer & creative director

Location

Portland, Oregon

Hobbies

Film photography, late-night vinyl, slow cooking for one, long walks when it rains, collecting vintage perfume bottles

I believe in chemistry that builds in silences — the brush of fingers when passing a drink, the way laughter can sound like a secret shared. I’m not loud about wanting closeness, but I’m not shy about it either. If you’re the kind of person who notices small things — the way my voice catches when I’m really listening, or how my eyes smile before my mouth does — then maybe we’d understand each other without many words.

I don’t know who’s reading this tonight. Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re lying in bed, city lights painting stripes across your ceiling, wondering if someone out there feels the same kind of restless, warm curiosity you do. If that’s you… I’d like to hear your voice.

💬 Talk to me tonight?