i finally deleted Tinder. and Bumble. and that other fucking one.
what was it called?
oh! Yea! fucking Her!
HER who is SHE who has NEVER loved me…but i digress. and i’ll stop projecting now.
its not the apps’ fault.
It’s not even her fault.
I swiped right on Plain Jane with hopes of gladly catching planes and feelings together. yet when i did, i was so trapped and dissatisfied. Surrounded by cold, but so in heat - she grew distant. More and more.
Is it me? A text every couple of days is…cute. But we started with good morning and good night. Good afternoon on a good day and selfies in between. My warmest days came from my cheeks burning from smiling and giggling so much.
The next month fell and snow fell. My cheeks weren’t so hot anymore.
One day she texts me. “Hey, how are you this week?”
“Its…fucking Thursday, bitch. WHERE have you been?” - is what i wanted to say. But i respond with some fuckboy, “sup. I’m blessed.” i don’t even talk like that! WHO do i think i am?
Obviously someone trying not to show that i’m hurt or disappointed in the lack of communication…so I’m just confused. She’s not completely to blame. I kind of went with it in hopes that…it was just a moment where folx are busy with holidays and anti-holidays.
She says, I’m sorry that i’ve been distant.
Muthafuckin what?? Did she just read my mind??
She continues, i’ve been seeing someone else…and i think it would be dope if we all met.
On my Her profile, she probably saw “poly” and i’m seeing red because INSTEAD of coming to grasps, yo ass is self appointed in trickery, fuckery, a whole chase scene out of Tom and Jerry as you tied an assumption to my gumption…as love is a scary thang.
How dare you, you doing too much ass bitch! You make me itch! And not just on my body but on my last nerve - expecting me to join the herd. Can i first roll in the hay with you? Can we pick up where we left off? Which i remember being so soft - those eyes, your skin, your smile, your laugh, the couch cushion…maybe your titty? Can i at least grab a titty? All this shit...and you ain’t even FUCK ME. FUCK NO. and FUCK YOU…
And then i clicked “send”
Its cuffing season. And i guess the more, the merrier the christmas. The happier the New Year. and there is just…NO WAY that i can continue to allow my generosity, my kindness and my spirit fall to the fail of missing boundaries and the pass of inconsideration. My self worth is worth the uncomfortable “no”, the confident “no”, the sassy “no”the “NO” with an attitude and i’ll be DAMNED if i allow myself to type (actually type out), “sure, let me know a day and time.”
And THEN i hit “send”.
Today is a new day and i’m living a healthier story. My love life is healthier too.
“Sure. What
an “opportunity” to artificially, to grow a skeleton foundation that I mostly took it upon yo self to
AND, as she sent a picture, i can see that IT has a DICK. how invasive. I don’t care to know its pronouns or gender identification as
