I was stood up on Valentine’s Day. There I said it. My immediate plan is to eat all the things (cry and do P90x later in the week) and I’m off to a good start having indulged in chips and guac at the perfectly designated digestion time of 9:30am. I am saving the whiskey for tonight.

It’s not the day that upsets me, the day doesn’t really hold any significance to me and somehow I’ve managed to not be cynical or bitter about love. What upsets me is that I am clearly super unaware that I have no idea what I’m doing with this dating stuff. I always think I’m doing fine right up until I’m looking at my watch and wondering “where tf is he?” and secretly just really relieved that I didn’t bother to put my makeup on just yet. It’s gotten to a point where if a guy asks me to come over or go out I always say yes even if I’m busy. Then I just go do the other thing and check my messages only to find that the dude didn’t come anyway. I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise.


Would it really kill a nigga to send a text or call to say he can’t make it? I’m a mom so I’m aware that sometimes things don’t go as planned, and when they don’t I keep folks informed. I tell people when I am unable to meet my obligations–strange, I know. I talked to a guy off and on for about a year and every single time we were supposed to get together it fell through because of random stuff and I never found out that he had no intention of showing up until the next day when I would take the initiative and ask what happened. Then I would be given the “dis bitch crazy” treatment. Honestly, I’ve lost track of whether I am actually crazy or if the dating world has gone fucking mad and I’m just completely out of the loop on how to play the new game.

As I type this, the nigga in question from last night is texting me “good afternoon” (he sent a good morning one hours ago). You don’t get a normal ass greeting! Shouldn’t you open with, “I’m sorry I just disappeared on you–I was attacked by a pack of wolves,” or something equivalent? How am I expected to waste my time with this fuckery. This is the part where I usually become vocal and explain exactly why I’m upset and how I feel in detail but …nobody fucking cares. Do you hear that? That is the sound of the world’s smallest violin playing the melody to this whack ass symphony. It is a waste of my breath to explain myself to a person that didn’t care enough to explain themselves to me.

After allowing myself to be disappointed so many times by that same dude for an entire calendar year, I now have a zero tolerance rule against fuckery. If I’m dating a single parent there is room for “stuff” to come up, but if it’s too much my siren goes off and I just shut the whole thing down. I mean, who are these guys that can’t just STOP?! I was talking to one guy and things seemed to be going well, then all of a sudden his responses started getting shorter and he just ended up never texting me back again. See, I can respect the slow fade out more than the “jilted prom date”. Fellas, if you don’t like a girl just go the fuck away!

You’ll Like It, They Said…

I’ve been trying the online dating stuff and I think I’m only popular there because I’m a writer and my profile has just the right hint of hoe in it to keep dudes intrigued. For some reason I thought this would be a fun experience, but for the most part I’m overwhelmed and I feel like the world’s biggest catfish. I’m really not that interesting. I just want to sit in the recliner in my room and write something or vibe to some music. I walk my two year old to a daycare I can barely afford every morning, I still owe half this month’s rent and just yesterday I trekked through knee deep snow to walk to the grocery store because I have no car. I’m poor and lazy and always slightly depressed. I don’t know what I am looking for–maybe just a guy whose actions match his words for once and who can pause from fucking bitches long enough to get to know me. Message me if you like naps pudgy tummies…


One thought on “Catfish

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