He texted me recently. Asking me how I was doing and if we could link soon. As tempting as it was, I declined. I already knew what our linking up would entail.
Another one I saw during my alma mater’s homecoming celebration. Briefly passing each other in a dark bar, instead of saying hello he decided to remind me that he would still have sex with me, even though last time I checked he was in a fully committed relationship with his girlfriend in another state.
Then there was this other guy. I now laugh about how hard and quick I fell for him. I guess you could say it was because I was going through an extremely vulnerable time in my life and simply needed somebody.
He made me feel so good about myself, then he ghosted me.
I spent an unreasonable amount of time wondering what it is that I did wrong, yearning to talk to him again and desperately wanting things to go back to how they once were.
All the pep talks and positive affirmations in the world couldn’t replace that empty feeling. Eventually, I moved on but the lingering memories of being ghosted like that still stings from time to time, though I’ve attempted to make peace with it.
SZA’s song The Weekend comes on and we sing our hearts out about being a man’s weekend. The break from the boring and stressful 9 to 5, the fun girl. I love SZA. I love the song. This point ain’t even about her truth be told, it’s more so about me and the things I’ve put up with when I struggled to like or love myself.
If I could tell any of those dudes anything, it would be that I don’t wanna be your weekend.
I would tell them that I deserve more than half-ass attempts to get to know me and only checking on me when they see me post pics on social media.
I would tell them I deserve more than mediocre-at-best sexual escapades and only wanting to spend time with because they’re bored.
Men have this terrible habit of making me their something to do when there is nothing to do or in other words, fucking with me when his girlfriend or main chick who thinks she’s his girlfriend (but he won’t commit to her either) are not on good terms.
I often wonder about the type of men I attract. Is it me? Am I not carrying myself well enough?
The dates. The phone calls. The quality time spent usually comes full force and then when they either A) Get tired of me or B) They mend things with the person they really want they go ghost on me until the next go-round.
I’m not happy to admit that I once played that role. But you live and you learn.
I often wonder how did dating get so emotionally taxing? Especially when it used to be fun as hell. Gone are the days of honesty and transparency, now there’s only room for games and more games.
While I desire companionship, I can’t fold for accepting less than I deserve any longer.
So look, if you’re reading this (cuz you probably are) understand this:
I DON’T WANNA BE YOUR WEEKEND.
I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR 9 TO 5.
I don’t want to be anything to anybody that can’t stick to their commitments, can’t see me as more than an object, can’t see me as fully human and can’t take my thoughts and feelings into account.
It seriously won’t kill you n*ggas to be nice and considerate for once.
I deserved to be treated how I wanted to and loved how I want to be loved. If that’s not your intention, let me know from the door so you can stop wasting my time and go find somebody else to play with.
Moral of the story: Fuck a weekend. Fuck a 9 to 5. I’m worth it every calendar day of the year.