Today was weird. Old lovers coming out of the woodwork.
Therapy guy texting that he had a great time last night and begging for some reassurance, some balm for his insecurity, before running off to his date with the other girl.
Once upon a Bumble matches texting, begging me to be their Unicorn.
The Redhead posing the question begged by my sweater, what’s underneath it?.
The Crinkled Eyed Architect texted me today, 6 weeks since my last reply.
To say hello and ask if I wanted to go swimming, which I always do, but not with him.
I asked how he was and he said,
“I’ve been good, keeping busy with work, meditations,
and being out in nature-
keeping quiet as much as possible.”
“I have been being loud whenever possible.”
And my, what a truth I told. That seems to be the moral of the story for today: I want things loud, and exuberant. I want a man who wants to hear me- whether I am speaking, moaning, or writing.
I want my words to count for something. I can’t waste my life away tending to the insecurities of men who deem themselves unworthy of love. I can’t go around healing sad men, playing the part of a professional fairy princess. I am feeling a bit run dry as far as love to give. I’m thinking of escaping. I’m thinking of hiding away, alone.
I like Therapy Guy, but.
But he is spending the night with his other girl tonight. Yet he is texting me during the date. I think I might be better off waiting for someone who wants to just date me. To date only me.
Tragic, the spectacle of modern dating, that this has even become a question.
Right now, I have more important things to pray for.
I will not resort to praying for love, or begging for it.
I will, however, spend the night thinking how well I fit in TG’s arms.
But, you know what? I bet she says the same thing.