Thank You, Next
Mark Twain once wrote “Write what you know.”
I’m beginning to feel like a broken record, but if I know one thing in this era of my life, it’s that like Halsey, I’m bad at love. Cupid is not my homeboy… you get it.
And still, I refuse to believe my equal isn’t out there. Further, I don’t believe he’s going to burst through my wall like the Kool Aid man and cart me off. So alas, here I am figuratively kissing my share of frogs.
Par for the course.
But still, I have compiled a list of what I don’t like. I’d like to issue this as my digital restraining order. If you fall into the following categories, please leave me be.
You Don’t Know What You Want
I’ve adapted astonishingly well to dating, if I do say so myself. I can do casual. Contrary to my own declaration, I’ve done a bid as a girlfriend. I’ve serial situationshipped (we’re verb-ing now) for the majority of a year. I’ve had FWBs. The point is, I’m adaptable. I will treat you according to your caliber. What I can’t do, won’t do, is play an endless guessing game. Be clear about your intentions and I can make a clear decision. Anything after that is all on me. If you’re more wishy washy than a whirpool appliance, please go away.
You Don’t Like Kids
Most recently, I went on a few ‘dates’ with a '“good on paper” guy. We talked everyday, but I couldn’t get a read on him. Being the perpetual big mouth in the room, I asked bluntly what his intentions were and was told in so many words, since he doesn’t have children, he sees himself starting out a family with someone in that same boat. Cool story bro. As self-appointed chairman-of-the-hour of the single mothers’ club, I would like to issue a sincere fuck you. See number one and add to that that babysitters are not only expensive but in short supply to most single moms. If you aren’t interested in step children, don’t interfere with the superhuman that is a mother doing all jobs on her own. We have better things to do than watch Netflix with you or act as your text pen-pal while you search out more viable options to take serious. Sorry, not sorry.
You’re a Hobo-Sexual
I debated this being a post on its own. I could write The Odyssey on this topic, but I’m saving the anecdote for another day. If you’re seeking shelter because your life is in a perpetual state of ruin, no matter what the reason may be, please stay far, far away from me. Just because you see that I appear to have it all together on my own, doesn’t mean that I’m signing up to move you into my home. You cannot cage a wildfire, and these types of men are a walking natural disaster. There is a difference between riding out a rough patch in an established partner’s life and choosing to see potential in a trash heap straight out of the gate. I am not a charitable organization or a governmental assistance agency. You cannot move in with me. Stay over there.
The Ex Files Are Open
Like I said above, I’m open to a lot of different manners of romantic relation. All depends on the person and the circumstances. What I won’t sign on for is your drama. If you need further elaboration on why, see here. The easiest way to get your ticket to Nika’s personal block party cashed in, fast, is to bring me your ex drama. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t care how crazy she is, you probably were the catalyst. I’ve literally had someone’s batshit ex call my office. Not a good look. He got bounced so quickly you could’ve confused me with Uncle Phil, a la Fresh Prince. Bottom line - before you enter something new, make sure you’ve made a clean break with the old. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Let it go, Craig. Just LIG it. Otherwise, like Tigger, we will see just how high you can bounce when I throw you to the curb.
I know I look like a snack, but I don’t need to be cling wrapped. Please do not bother with me if you don’t have your own life. Hobbies, friends, interests, a career. All can fill your time much better than I can. I’ve been hounded for dates, accused of lying about my pre-existing obligations, asked when I would be able to get away from my kids, hounded for calls on my break (what break?!). See all of the foregoing if you are one of these confused, lonely individuals. If you don’t know how to fill your time, donate it to charity. Serve a greater purpose because you will not find it here. Not so immediately, at least. Those with ample gaps to fill in their schedule need not apply. I am not readily available and don’t plan on being for quite some time.
In short, if you fall into any of the categories above, do some soul searching. Drink some water. Take a walk. Hell, take a run. As long as it’s not to my house.
I issue this PSA on behalf of independent women the world over who are tired of your shit.
Thank you, next.