The following is an excerpt from my recent piece “Focussed on Things That Matter,” as seen on Lady Clever:
“Hey, Jenny. It’s ____________. Your friends gave me your phone number after you left. Give me a call or text me whenever. I’d like to buy you a drink.”
After being single for practically four years, you would think a text message like this would leave a girl swooning, but not here, not in New York. The phrase “give me a call” immediately sends my stomach falling through the floor, my senses overcome with a combination of paralysis and nausea. Give me a call… This isn’t the charmed opening for a lifelong relationship; it is the death knell for my own sanity, a Venus flytrap I have finally begun to see for what it is. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me 43 times, shame on me. Like an old basketball player fearing broken bones, I have taken myself out of the game.