It sucks when someone you have feelings for doesn’t share those feelings; it happens to women all the time, too. We hear “I just want to be friends” and “you’re like one of the guys” and “you’re like a sister to me” just as often. But you’ll never hear a woman complain that guys just don’t appreciate a Nice Girl because we’re taught it’s our own fucking fault when we’re rejected—we aren’t pretty enough or thin enough or sexy enough, we weren’t sexual enough or were too sexual, we put out too much or too little or too soon or not soon enough, we didn’t wear our hair the right way or our skirt the right length, we’re “too tomboyish” or “too butch” or “too feminine”, or we’re “not their type”, or we’re otherwise not good enough in various ways to entice the man to grace us with his affection.
But when we’re not interested in someone, we’re vilified. We’re the bitch that lead them on, the bitch who let them buy us dinner but didn’t want to date them, the bitch who doesn’t appreciate a nice guy, the bitch they were nice to and then got nothing in return from.
And, frankly, fuck those people. Showing interest in me, being friendly with me, getting close to me, or eating a meal with me (even if they paid for it) doesn’t obligate me to open my heart or my legs. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate my friendship sure as hell doesn’t deserve my love or my pussy.
Don’t claim them. Feel the artistry
moving through, and be silent.
a suspected tibetan, may be burmese
sun staring down at a beautiful day
shoes two sizes too big
dirty tarp rolled up,
crouched at the corner of walton’s legacy.
he sits like a piece of caramel melting.
george washingtons glow greenly,
evoke blessings from a tongue we don’t understand.
sign language fails averted eyes.
I cannot steal your spirit today.
essence pouring in with light.
I won’t. but thank you.
a violet bruise on the backside
of yesterday, fading into forgotten
and i am watching recordings of everything i don’t have,
not to settle, a universe of unpaid dues
an open tab,
five open tabs
of simultaneous possibility, none mine
and the hit and wait for it
to hurt, and stop
when we tire of drinking in this mediocrity
with all these things we could have been,
a fall short of something bigger,
a grounded body
for air not yet smelled
and hills not yet climbed.
You are small,
you are nothing in
the scheme of it all.
That is comforting to me,
that you are merely a stone
pushed along in this river.
tiaralenea just let this dude spin game on me over the phone. Gave me a full spoken word story.