Excerpt from journal. May, 2019

Unfortunately, I bumped into you in a phase when my wanker-detecting skills were rusty. My vulnerability had reached a new low, and my self-esteem was in a downward trajectory spiral. Had my mood or circumstances been different, I would probably have seen you coming from a miles away. I would have seen that glaring ´player´ sign perched on your forehead like a billboard advert. At the very least, I would have refrained from bittng my tongue and I would have told you a thing or two that was playing on my mind about you. This is the hardest bit to come to terms with, admitting to myself that I let a thoroughbred asshole walk all over me.

I sincerely hope your daughters do not cross paths with insensitive jerks like you. The type that make them feel as used and stupid as you did to me.  United machos of the whole fucking world: Yes, I know nobody is responsible for how you made me feel, because I hold myself accountable for how I feel. I know my insecurities and miseries are only mine and mine alone to deal with.

However, is there even a dichotomy here? I don’t think so. There will always be two sides of a story, but only one narrative:  either you are considerate, honest, or you are quite the fucking opposite.  A French exit smeared with bullshit is certainly not a classy pulling-away maneuver, is it? If you think I was not even worthy of the simple truth, that says a lot about the type of person you are. Being cocky and being a coward are not mutually exclusive, after all.

I have some other news for you, Mr. Duplicity.  Right from the start, I could smell a rat and I detected that something about you was off, but I  ignored the alarm bells and went along for the ride, because, I admit it, I was looking for a bit of escapism. My bad.  And, foolishly, I believed I saw a glimpse of authenticity in you, or some fleeting connection between us, which vanished as soon as you showed me your cards. You may have given your ego a boost while you smashed mine. I bet it felt good though, didn’t it?

You may think that you are audacious because being under the spotlight is second nature to people like you, your self-confidence knows no limits, modesty for you is off the table, you think shyness is a curse, and you are entitled to belittle people who, like me, are less inclined to be the center of attention. But you are wrong. Because in a world packed with neanderthals disguised as eloquent urbanites, where quick transactions and instant gratification are the norm, the real audacity is showing a kind, generous and sensitive front. That is the real deal. And this pint-sized woman runs circles around you in that regard.

I know that there is no real story to mourn, no end-of-the-romance great finale to this rant. I am well aware of that. I’ve got the theoretical basis covered. But it hurts nevertheless.

Photo: Bansky Artwork