Obsessed.

I was reluctant to agree to his Facebook friend request. We were never friends and he’s in the age bracket I dislike the most when it comes to single men. The approaching 50 creepers who think waving a car or a house in front of me is some sort of bait.

I own my home, a couple cars and enough success to intimidate basic boys.

I don’t need a man, I want one. There’s an enormous difference.

I love a bald man. I love them with hair. I even love a well-manicured beard these days. Tall or short, built or heavy… as a short girl, the world is my damn oyster.

There’s only a few things I don’t like.

  1. Skinny guys. Yeahhhh…. no. Sorry. I’ve done my time with that I’m not at all attracted. Dad bod is my jam but I can tolerate a gym rat if I have to. I’d really rather not have to though. He needs to be able to lift more than me and resist the urge to tell me about it.
  2. Unsolicited men. Yeah those creepy bastards who show up in my DM’s. UCKKK. It’s always creepy. It’s never someone that you were hoping would drop into focus. It’s “those” guys, it’s never THAT guy.
  3. Cigarettes… yuck. Ashtrays are a thing of the past and I won’t ever have that smell be a part of my daily life again.
  4. Plain skin. If he doesn’t have at least one tattoo… I don’t want him. Not at all.
  5. Rich boys. I won’t even consider it anymore. No offense, but they just don’t connect with people who work hard and are a pain in the ass if you are someone that does (ie: me).

So imagine my displeasure when someone who fits ALL of that criteria, showed up on my FB, and then began direct messaging me. There’s a high ewwwww…… factor. I ignored him, because that’s my response given how busy my work day is. It’s the easy out and I barely have time to message my friends and family back… so … ghosting has become a brand new superpower.

Confession: He’s the exact opposite of he-who-I-need-someone-to-be-just-like.

So I’m annoyed…. and distant… which makes him all the more eager. If only we could harness that power when we really like someone.

At any rate, he’s constantly messaging me about stupid shit or conversations I’ve had with other people on FB.

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Alone with my child…in the woods? Not at gunpoint.

NO.

Ewww, GROSS.

I sent it to my daughter, who had a few sage bits of advice.

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It’s a proud moment when you realize you’ve raised a pint-sized murderino. It’s also really demoralizing when you realize she already knows just how creepy the creepers are.

I’m drowning in offers of acrobatic sex and eternal love and devotion. I could have a dick in my bed in 15 minutes or be on a date in 30. I’m not bragging- I’m complaining. This is how disgustingly unappealing things are now. None of it is remotely tempting. Creepy offers of rushed intimacy do nothing but make me yawn. I’d rather not even entertain this garbage and that’s why I’m stuck pining for a lightning bolt in a room full of dim bulbs.

I’d forgotten how much I loved to swim with a shark and now I’m bored by the goldfish nibbling on my feet. I miss the way I’m caught between fear and longing when he’s circling me so I find myself more annoyed than aroused by rabid interest.

I miss the magic of him… not the sex. I’m not sad that I’m not getting laid, I miss the way his smile punches me straight in the stomach. I’m unwilling to settle for boring and I’m a touch bitter to find out that I know where to find exactly what I want.

… and can’t have it.

Imagine Harry Potter walking away from the sorcerer’s stone. He wouldn’t have been singing a happy song, that’s for damn sure. So please forgive me while I pout, pout, and pout some more. I have so many good reasons to be melancholy… but I’m also just swimming in gratitude for the smile he puts back on my face… and the naughty twinkle he restored that clear cuts the handsome men right into my Tinder.

Like shitty little moths to a flame…

 

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