Love at First Sight? Unbelievable, but True!

It was December 2012.

Everything changed on that particular day.

Permanently.

Irreversibly.

At the time, I believed I would not survive what followed.

But the old saying is true:

What does not kill you makes you stronger — assuming you do not destroy yourself first.

That December day, my ex drove me to work.

Then I saw a baby.

And something inside me suddenly said:

YES.

It is time.

The wounds of the past seemed to disappear.

I was ready again.

We had already tried once before.

Sadly, that attempt had ended badly.

So I was completely unprepared for the answer I received when I brought up the possibility again:

“I don’t know anymore what I want.”

That same day, he moved out to “think”.

Then Christmas arrived.

And I was completely alone.

Only my dogs kept me alive.

Without them, I do not know what I might have done to myself.

Nothing else mattered.

I did not want to see anybody.

I did not want anyone’s help.

Months passed.

Life did not become lighter.

But I did.

I lost twenty kilograms.

For two weeks, I could barely swallow a single bite.

I lived on cigarettes and coffee.

Naturally, the question is:

Why did he leave?

And for whom?

Like many women, I had become too comfortable inside the relationship.

I barely noticed how I looked.

At twenty-seven, I could not compete with a sixteen-year-old.

Not that I wanted to.

Looking back, the entire situation was deeply unhealthy.

What does a thirty-eight-year-old man want from a sixteen-year-old girl who is still, in so many ways, a child?

I survived.

And I moved forward.

I did what had to be done every day.

But I did not really enjoy anything.

I wanted a lasting relationship.

A family.

The things I believed a woman naturally longs for.

Then I began desperately clinging to one unsuitable person after another.

Today, I would erase many of them from my life with one stroke if I could.

But life does not work like that.

And perhaps, if I could erase them, my story would not have developed the way it did.

I needed those painful experiences.

I needed to recognise my own mistakes.

I needed enough bad experiences to understand the value of something good.

During boring hours, I was constantly scrolling on my phone.

One day, I saw a casting call looking for a model for a pin-up photo shoot.

The style was very close to my heart.

I applied immediately.

And I was invited.

The photographer was Norbert Bánhalmi.

I had never stood in front of a camera as a model before.

I was terribly embarrassed.

I need time to open up to another person.

This photographer, however, appeared out of nowhere and seemed to see straight through me.

We did not need a long conversation.

From my eyes and body language, he immediately understood that my confidence was practically zero.

I still have no idea exactly what he said or how he did it.

But slowly my fear began to ease.

He waited patiently.

Like a hedgehog, I gradually uncurled.

The spikes came down.

Looking into his eyes, I knew:

I could trust him.

I was safe.

I could show myself.

The professional photographs were completed quickly.

And people loved them.

I could barely believe the woman in the images was me.

The next morning, I was still smiling at myself in the bathroom mirror.

Positive feedback arrived from everywhere.

To be honest, for a while it may even have gone slightly to my head.

I had never received so much encouragement.

Attention.

Recognition.

Hundreds of messages came in.

Men saw a woman behind a perfect makeup-and-smile mask.

A wild tattooed girl filtered through their own fantasies.

The pendulum swung too far.

Dates.

Hope.

Disappointment.

Falling flat on my face.

My confidence collapsed again.

Eventually, I no longer wanted anybody beside me.

I rebuilt the walls.

But life has a habit of sending somebody in precisely when you stop waiting.

Somebody appears and knocks everything over with one perfectly aimed kick.

Two years passed.

Again, it was December.

That day.

I was working as a hairdresser when somebody appeared outside the salon window.

He was talking with a woman who had an appointment with me the following day.

If there had been a balcony there, I would probably have fallen over the railing.

Forget dignity.

I pressed myself against the glass and sighed:

“There goes my prince.”

He looked exactly as I had imagined when, at one point, I had literally written a list describing the kind of partner with whom I believed I could build happiness.

One of my clients had told me this had worked for her.

I thought:

Why not?

Let’s try.

The following day, naturally, curiosity won.

I immediately questioned my client:

Who was that devastatingly handsome man she had been talking to?

A huge weight lifted when she told me:

Her younger brother.

No need to wait for the postman.

We found each other on Facebook.

Then began conversations lasting until dawn.

Several days later, he visited me with a bouquet of roses.

I had never received roses from a man on a date before.

Then Christmas came.

His sister and family travelled away.

He lived with them, so he would have been alone for the holiday.

Just like me.

On impulse, we asked ourselves:

Why not spend Christmas together?

Two complete strangers celebrating the holiday of love together.

I had never done anything quite that crazy.

If he turned out to be a psychopath, I only hoped he would kill me quickly.

Instead, Christmas was wonderful.

We had no expectations.

We simply approached it with enthusiasm.

I was not served as the main course.

I survived.

Then came the cold shower.

He told me that in February he would begin professional military service.

I had never believed in long-distance relationships.

But he felt too good to simply let him walk out of my life.

I had no idea what he wanted.

I did not even dare ask.

I simply decided to enjoy whatever time we had.

In February, I drove him to Tata for enlistment.

It was not romantic.

A tearful goodbye.

A tearful drive home.

An emotional roller coaster.

A week and a half later, he walked into the salon carrying his bag.

He had made his decision.

He wanted me.

And a family.

I had won the war without a weapon.

Make love, not war.

Since then, we have lived through a great deal together.

Good.

Bad.

Another lost pregnancy.

Surgery.

A painful recovery.

Then waiting and hoping again.

Today, we have a wonderful, healthy little daughter.

I became a wife.

A mother.

And I finally know my own value.

My confidence no longer depends on feedback from strangers.

Through the eyes of my partner, I learned to recognise what actually makes me beautiful.

I believe that however hopeless you feel today, however strongly you believe you cannot survive what is happening, somebody or something will eventually arrive that you never expected.

You have to believe miracles exist.

In fact, we can choose to live as though everything in the world is a miracle.

---

Or as though nothing is.

What I believe is this:

The road toward miracles must first be imagined.

Then planned.

Then walked.

We have to act.

And eventually, a dream can become reality.

Mine are currently making a spectacular mess in the other room. :-)

A well-designed portrait session aims to create genuine, confident presence in the final photograph.

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For the professional context and practical side of portrait photography, visit the BANHALMI professional website. Related art series, books and exhibitions are preserved in the BANHALMI ART archive.