I had planned to be on a date tonight, but apparently, I musta offended the other half of the arrangement because I’ve texted a few times … <chirp> <chirp>.
I don’t like to be on anyone’s shit-list, but honestly, the girl was already clingy and we hadn’t even met in person, yet. When I wouldn’t respond to her texts, like, immediately, she’d get sensitive – “Are you ok”? Uh, I am at work, it’s a Friday afternoon, calm down. She sent texts and photos of the event she was attending all weekend. When we discussed her return to the area, she suggested we have dinner together on both Sunday and Monday nights. I brushed that off and leaned in to Monday. Random texts kept coming in, topics ranging from “do you like leather?”, to “is it snowing where you are?”, and finally, last night: “May I call you?”, to which I didn’t reply. I texted this morning, apologized, and explained that I hadn’t been feeling well last night, followed by another text about where we should meet for dinner. It’s 6pm now, and nada.
In that case, I’ll go ahead and pop open a beer now.
If you’re going to be that weird about an un-replied-to text on a Sunday night, well, I don’t need that sort of drama in my life.
Perhaps she already rented the U-Haul. Fucking lesbians.
So, now, here I sit, conflicted and sad. Maybe this whole dating thing, even this being partnered thing isn’t my deal, at least, not anymore. There’s no doubt that I’m lonely, but I’ll admit that the thought of sharing time and space with anyone isn’t terribly appealing these days either
It’s a conflict, for sure. I sit here alone so often I’ve actually worn a solitary indent into the couch.
It’s hard all the time, but tonight feels worse than most. I sit in my crevice and wonder if I simply deserve this pain, and why … because I wanted a baby? Was that not painful enough? Can we call it a fucking draw, now?
I wish I could vaporize, I’d turn myself into a pink haze and disappear. No more pain. No more hate. No more jealousy. No more sadness. No more. Going. Going.