The Life of a Dime
Men trip over themselves daily. My phone never stops buzzing. I post one photo in that little red slip and the comments section becomes a battlefield. I look indefinitely single on purpose. It keeps the rotation fresh.
A 10/10 confesses • 1997
I have everything a girl could want. So why does every man I touch end up married to someone else?
Men trip over themselves daily. My phone never stops buzzing. I post one photo in that little red slip and the comments section becomes a battlefield. I look indefinitely single on purpose. It keeps the rotation fresh.
Calls every third Tuesday after his wife’s book club. Still sends roses to my apartment with the same note: “You’re the one that got away.”
Keeps a second phone just for me. Says I’m the only person who makes him feel alive. I keep the phone charged.
Proposed to his fiancée three weeks after our last weekend in the city. Still texts me at 2 a.m. from the guest room.
I adore the attention. I adore the gifts, the desperation, the way they cancel plans for me. But when the night ends and the door closes, I’m left with the same question that keeps me awake: why won’t any of them choose me when the sun comes up?
“I want the one who won’t leave when the thrill wears off,” she whispers into her pillow, surrounded by heart-shaped boxes of chocolates no one stayed to share.
Genuine advice only. No married men need apply.