We've been living with dating apps for some years now. What's more, we could say they've become the most common way to meet people and hook up. But it also seems that being a user of these platforms is a kind of vicious circle. We enter them with enthusiasm, we get a match, we have some conversations and, with luck, a date. In the end, however, we discover it's not what we were looking for, that it makes us cringe or, in the worst case, they end up breaking our hearts. We delete them, clearly stating we'll never go back to the devil's app again, but after a while, we download it again. And so, time and time again, each time with a little less hope.

In the beginning, everything is rosy. You find it adorable how they eat fruit, how they leave their shoes in the hall, or even how they snore. But then comes cohabitation, the famous trial by fire, and suddenly what you found endearing causes you a monumental ick.

The big question in first-year psychology is: is human behavior determined by genetics or context? The answer is, basically, a bit of both, so I've just saved you four years of a degree.

If there were a mathematical formula for a relationship to work, we would have patented it years ago. But love has the bad habit of resisting recipes. Nevertheless, there are theories that, without providing absolute answers, help us understand why some relationships thrive and others end up deflating.

Whenever I visit a couple with children, I pay attention. Do they have a lock on the bedroom door? It might seem like a strange obsession, but for me, it's a small detail loaded with meaning. Because putting a lock on a door isn't just installing a mechanism; it's setting a boundary and protecting a space of intimacy.

I hope I don't ruin anyone's day with this statement, but no, love can't do it all.

Masturbating while in a relationship has, for a long time, been a controversial topic. As if having a partner should mean giving up one's own sexuality. And precisely, we know that masturbation is healthy, just as it is to know oneself and to maintain one's own sexuality.

This is a question that is a trap in itself. Many times, in consultation, requests related to this arrive: to recover the flame and, consequently, to return to how it was before.

If you've asked yourself this question before, there's probably a basic idea worth revisiting: sex isn't about pleasing. Or, at least, not just about that. Because when we understand sexual relations as the other person's responsibility – as if they should know exactly what we need or how to make us enjoy ourselves – it's easy to end up experiencing sex with frustration, pressure, or disappointment.

Before separating, Raúl (a fictitious name to maintain his anonymity) saw a lot of potential in dating apps and was eager to try them out. Having had the opportunity, he hasn't used them and is "far from" doing so. He wants to stop spending so many hours in front of his phone and delving into this world is precisely going in the other direction. But the truth is, he hasn't missed them. "I've met people who have interested me and people who have interested me," he says when explaining how he's handled this new situation. He also confesses that being able to experiment has been a "healthy and good motivation" for him.