The pretty boy I liked left my last message unread.
We were supposed to go out Sunday night.
I don’t understand this. Never did.
Talk every day for a week then bail without reason or warning.
Unjinx my love life now please.
As a result, and for a distraction I went back on Tinder, just to see.
Found Lumberjack about 20 minutes into swiping. He had changed up his profile a bit, new pics, different bio.
It isn’t like I didn’t know. But now I really know, you know?
I mentally checked out when we didn’t go see the new Star Wars. Rogue One. That shoulda been his nickname, the rogue one. So perfect on paper but never around. Ah well…meme buddies for life.
I am not going to sit here and pretend it didn’t hurt. It did, but it’s been a dull ache for so long the quick, sharp stab felt kinda good by comparison.
I’m crying in fits and starts.
So that’s that then.
Second verse, back to the first.
That really extra pretty one I was talking to? I said, very plainly, “I am busy next week do you want to have dinner tomorrow or keep up this teasing thing.”
“When and where.”
I told him.
He never picked up the message.
Just like that.
I don’t understand the game and I am not interested. Thanks for playing?
These ghosts speak a language I’m not fluent in.
If I want something I want it. I say so.
Why ask me out in the first place?
Football messaged me at 5:26 am with an apology for not getting back to me yesterday. So that was nice. My hopes aren’t high but he seems to be trying this time around.
Lumberjack would rather go back on Tinder than booty call me so there is that then.
I didn’t ask for much, I never do.
Tacos and snugglefucks. A little consistency. Just show up really.
Panda’s beau showed up mid messaging/ending with Lumberjack and I was bawling when I opened the door.
He is hella good to talk to and in doing so I realized something.
I have the emotional/romantic maturity of a 20 something, which explains a lot. Holy shit does it ever.
I spent 21 years being a mom and a wife. I didn’t know who I was, what I wanted or how to date. Still don’t really, but I do feel like I am getting there…agonizingly slow, with a massive body count.
Guru quipped last night “The day they don’t get a cute tag name from you is the day you don’t get undermined by them.”
He is not wrong. He is rarely wrong.
I nickname to protect them and out of habit. But my habits are really bad and no one is protecting me.
Time to break them.
His name was…
Leon, Jay, Matt, Matt, Saif, Jake, Giovanni, Nelson, Sam, Jeremy, Michael, Michael, Michael and Dennis.
As I sat on the porch contemplating this I had to stop being sad about it.
I don’t give attention to the negative anymore, or at least I really try not to.
So I tried to picture the positive.
I know EXACTLY what I want.
I want what I had with Young Un the First, the first Michael in fact.
We stayed in, we went out, we talked, snuggled and fucked a lot.
He was around a few times a week, no pressure or stress. He was just there.
He hated holding hands but he held mine.
We supported each other and damn he was so very easy on the eyes.
I want that again.
Not him, but the relationship type thing we had.
So be it.