I barely shut the door. They wanted job, bill, and whether he sulked after. Dating is public now. The jury lives in a WhatsApp thread.
Category: Dating Apparently
A good morning. A song. A nearly. Then silence for three days. I am not starving. I hate being fed in teaspoons by a coward.
Everyone worships chemistry like it is proof. Sometimes he is just nervous and I am performing. Slow burn is less sexy. It is less fake.
We swap memes and late voice notes. Nobody asks what this is. The talking stage is just two people auditioning without agreeing the job exists.
He replies just enough to keep me warm. Never enough to make a plan. Benching is the new ghosting with better manners and worse timing.
Vulnerability is treated like an ick now. I joke instead. Then I want to say it in daylight and my mouth does that stupid freeze.
I can spot a bad idea in a nice coat. I still say yes. Chemistry feels like proof. It is usually just familiar old trouble.
I put my card down because I could. His whole face changed. Some men only like cocky until the bill proves you need no rescuing.
Anyone will touch me in the dark. Fewer will hold my hand by the bus stop. That gap tells me more than those late texts.
It was good. Too good, maybe. Next day he talks about timing and work stress. I know a retreat when I am watching one clearly.