Love is a fairytale that I no longer believe in. I feel like I’m in a warped version of Snow White.
These are the “dwarves” who came along the way
Breadcrumber: He was my favorite to this day, yet he ran hot and cold; he made me feel like a horny teenager. The one I caught feelings for but was never reciprocated. One who took a chance on someone other than me, one who we still swipe right. One who I still think about and crave. The Breadcrumber was one who I enjoyed sexually, but one who never took the time to text back or care. He was the longest-running. The one I spent the most time with. The one who I craved his penis—the one who treated me like an option or convenience. One who I would text only to receive no response—ghosted me out of his life—Sad. I thought we had a foundation for a friendship, at the very least.
Pirate: We had the best conversations and drunken nights. He was fun and boyishly playful. I had zero qualms traveling out of town to see him. We are better off as friends and still have deep conversations, always lifting me and full of inspiration, no urge to be with him again sexually.
Miner: One of the best weekend getaways to date; we did stuff; actual outings in public. We met halfway and sepnt the weekend in a hotel. Then he slept at my place the following weekend. He was the first guy I had in my bed in years. I miss the days of smiling at my phone, the constant texts, and good night calls. The distance between us is way too much for us even to consider anything. We still chat here and there, and he still wants to see me if he ever comes to town. But I’m just not feeling it.
Playful: We would hook up occasionally, meeting halfway at a hotel; he had an obsession with my breasts, especially cleavage pics. He still checks in on me popping up on my snap chat. Knowing that our days of hooking up have ended, we remain friends. He was the first guy I ever met online, one who drove the distance to meet me. Bashful: He was so into me but in his head and at half-mast. All talk, no game. I don’t like submissive men. No thanks!
Dopey: So stoned he didn’t know what day it was. He also smelt like cheese and looked nothing like his profile pics. Ewww! Sleepy: That was the last straw for 2021. The name says it all. Yep, I slept the whole time and snored like a fucking bear. Guessing he was really hoping nap dates were a thing?! They say we have to kiss many frogs to find our prince. Believe me, I have. I will continue to take chances, including the chance my so-called prince has been run over by his horse.
Published at Thu, 10 Feb 2022 03:39:00 -0800