“Gentle reminder, it’s not a walk of shame if you stop for brunch on the way” – the internet (so it must be true.)
Aloof; calm, cool and collected, put down the phone. These are the things you keep repeating to yourself over and over because you just had the best sex of your life and now he’s leaving and you don’t want him to leave, you want him to stay… forever. And ever. But you can’t say that, you can’t even allude to it because that would make you bat shit crazy, and he doesn’t need to see that side of you… yet. So as he slings on his jacket, you subtly sniff the air around him just to get one last smell of that delicious cologne that shredded your panties, you smile at him and thank him for the great night. Aloof, calm, cool and collected.
You lay in bed with a smile on your face as you start to map out your future with Mr. Right (now) and you can’t wait for your 2nd date. He hasn’t asked you on a 2nd date yet, but you know its coming, it has to be coming, this night was just too perfect. You send a message to your group chat of best girlfriends and tell them all about your date and that you’ve found the one. THE ONE.
The next day you consider deleting your Tinder because why would you need it anymore? His text still hasn’t come but it will, you know it will. You scroll through his photos again with a wistful sigh as you plan out how the holidays are going to work, will he come over for Thanksgiving? You want him to meet your mom, she will love him.
You keep this mindset until your best friend comes over and slaps you out of your delusional fog of bullshit and makes you realize he’s just another fuckboy (who still hasn’t text you) who gave you a great orgasm. She tells you orgasms are great but fuckboys aren’t. ‘The One’ and fuckboy are not words you put in a sentence together, the only word that should go with a fuckboy is BYE.
Put yourself first, eat pizza and realize how fucking gorgeous you are.