Ghost
I was stoked when you text me. I could really see that you had considered how a lady would like to be approached.
You were articulate, you introduced yourself and knew what you wanted. You told me everything I needed to know, without too much over-familiarity or fluff. You seemed genuine, funny even, and I was excited to meet you.
The day came around, and I did my usual reconfirmation text, for which you promptly replied that we were on for today, and you were excited to meet me. The feeling was mutual. I sent you my address details. I knew how today was going to happen, my financial projection was in place and I started my routine.
After the gym, I didn't have a great deal of time, because it's hair wash day, so after I quickly throw together some scrambled eggs and scoff it, I'm off to the shower. 45minutes later I emerge (yes, it takes a long time to shave these long legs and wash this mop of thick hair), I begin the race about, with a towel wrapped around my head. Deodorant first, because it takes ages to dry, full body moisturiser and then my 4 step facial routine. Stand in front of the AC for a bit to let all my creams dry (I'm going to feel silky smooth for you!) and then, light blow-dry of the hair. Now my makeup. I'm an expert at this now, but I relish the routine of it. I lovingly apply my makeup and transform into someone worthy of my profession, and then do about half an hour of hair - finishing blow-dry, straightening, then oiling it. It's high maintenance this hair business you know….
Next I pick out an outfit - you made no requests but I want to look nice for you. I pull out my most delicate lacey contraption and my tightest dress and squeeze myself into them. Looking great if I do say so myself, I really hope you like it. I live for the look on a mans face when he walks in and finally sees what is on the menu.
Then, I look around at my house. Ah shit, I had better hide some dishes… I do a quick vacuum because my hair went everywhere, light some candles and the oil burner and finally, over a couple of hours later, I'm ready for you.
The butterflies set in. You sound lovely, I wonder what you look like? I wonder if you're as charming in person? What will you think of me?
The time is here. I usually hear from people by now. Anticipation makes people routinely, and often annoyingly, early.
5mins past… it's only five minutes but…. my fingers start to tap and the worry starts.
20mins late. You aren't coming - I haven't heard from you. I txt you 'how far away are you please?'. Nothing. You have ghosted me.
I sit here, an image put together just for you, and a little tear rolls down my cheek. I for a moment try and make excuses for you but there are none. And I start to fret because the bond on my new house is due and the debit for the ridiculous power bill just left my account. My professional manicure is looking faded and now, so am I.
I don't send you abuse, I would have when I was 21, with more fire behind my eyes... But now I just sink back, block your number and try to breathe over the rejection, the inconvenience and the sadness. I take off the bra, the underwire is digging, and slink back into my pyjamas. I go to twitter and look for those little hearts on my pictures and tell myself, 'it's not me'. And I try to believe it.
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