Dating is toxic. It’s the worst thing in the world. And while the stories and poems I get from somewhat captivating encounters is usually alright – I tend to walk away with the whole, “What the fuck was I thinking?” vibe.
That’s essentially what I have today.
My Brooklyn boy has officially been filed away with the rest. When it comes to my box of has-beens, there’s nothing really unique about any of them. They’re just another chunk of flesh tossed in the box.
If I ever meet a man of real substance – he won’t get thrown in that box. I cried over Brooklyn like a week ago, I knew then that we’d never last. I’m fiercely loyal though, to a fault.
Anyways. Today is my first day being “single” again. At least it’s summer in the city. We all wear less clothes and smile more. And truth be told, I’m rejoicing over not having to go to Brooklyn anymore. When you live in midtown Manhattan, it’s hard to plug your head full of reasons to travel to Bensonhurst. Even when the sex is fire.
The only way I ever get over anyone is to move on to the next one. I don’t really see a problem with rebounds, as long as they’re dealt with responsibly and feelings don’t get hurt.
Feelings getting hurt is what I have a real problem with.
I’m hoping to have a date tonight, if not tomorrow. When you live where I live, these things aren’t hard. You just hope they don’t get too deep.
I don’t think Brooklyn was deep. Just another boy in the box.