It’s only times like this when I’m alone, showered, and snuggled up in bed where I truly miss having a significant other. The stranger who helped me comes to mind. I was too upset to truly see him but now the tinge of regret for politely blowing him off hits. I should have at least gotten his name.
The feeling is hard to describe, it’s like thinking about the menu item that I was too full to try at a restaurant in another country. The likability of it happening is very low. In even rarer moments, I think about his voice. It was soothing in person but unexpectedly sexy when I called him. I almost accepted his invitation but he and what he was offering sounded too good to be true.
Although my refusal was a safety decision, I couldn’t bring myself to throw away his phone number. It’s saved in my phone as Kind Stranger but I have not brought myself to dial it. Men always seem promising in the beginning. Plus, part of me likes to think he’s a family man who has a soft spot for damselsin distress. He could just be married with kids but didn’t like the idea of a woman stranded. I’ve created so many scenarios in my head but I cannot force myself to call his number and get the answers. The baffling part is that I cannot figure out if I’m intrigued because he was so kind or if it’s something else entirely.
Rolling over in bed, I make a decision to put myself out there after the show wraps. I won’t go on a dating frenzy but I will stop ignoring advances within reason. The thirsty DMs and comments will remain unanswered.
At 32, I’m just ready to find my person, get some late night cuddles, and have his babies. That’s not too much to ask. Is it?
∞∞∞
The show was wrapped with the winners announced almost two weeks ago and I’m winding down on post show appearances until the reunion airs. The bubbles from the champagne tickle my lips as I sip my celebratory drink at the reunion wrap up party. As always I’m curious to see what the producers will keep from the hours of filming we just completed.
My photo op with the winning couple is barely over before my phone starts blowing up with notifications. While I usually receive a steady amount of notifications, my stomach drops because excessive notifications are never a good thing. I scan my memory to try to remember if I’ve done anything problematic lately and come up short. I’ve been busy and on my best behavior.
Yet as I excuse myself to check my phone in private, I already feel and see people looking at me, watching me for any signs of distress.
What is it?
I smile at the few people I make eye contact with on the way to the bathroom. I need to look cool and poised until I find out what in the hell is going on. With the door closed, I take out my phone with a shaky hand while praying I didn’t do anything to get cancelled.
It doesn’t take me long to find the headline that has everyone interested in me.
Rapper Adán El Rey has Hard Launched His Relationship with Mega Star Shira.
It’s a picture of them kissing. After my initial relief, the only thing I feel is the disappointment of seeing one of my favorite celebrities with a loser. I scan the article with little interest but frown when I notice that the person who wrote this particular article was messy enough to note our split about nine months prior. We’ve been apart long enough for someone to have an entire baby, what the hell does this have to do with me?
“Why mention me at all?” I grumble. “That’s why my phone is blowing up.”
Frustration heats my body. I hate being in mess. If he’s moved on, good for him. I have. There is no part of me that wants him back. The only inconvenience I can see is that I can’t play Shira’s music loudly anymore.
It’s a nightmare. My team will be on my ass because no matter what I do or say I’ll either be attention seeking or bitter. My stomach flutters with nerves. I must look unfazed because any worry I show will be attributed to Adam and I don’t give a damn about Adam.
Hoping that it will all blow over soon, I refresh my lip combo and rejoin the party. The atmosphere is different now. The others give me curious glances as they try to gleam myreaction to the news. I’m not some fragile love sick woman who has been waiting for Adam to come back. I just wish he didn’t get with someone with such a ferocious fanbase.
My only goal is to stay true to myself. I take the same pictures I would have taken and make the same posts but now the engagement is through the roof. It’s as if all her fans flocked to my social media to watch my every move so they can strike if I step out of line.
In the grand scheme of things, it’s actually pretty scary. He is my ex after all. It’s not like I’m creeping in as the other woman. He and I were hardly in the media as a couple, I sure as hell don’t want my name plastered everywhere near Adam and Shira’s. This is some bullshit.
My phone rings and every cell of my body fights to not roll my eyes. My issue isn’t with who’s calling, it’s all about why he’s calling.
“Not now, Kyle,” I answer.
“Not now my ass, did you see the news?”
“Yes and I don’t care. Just release a statement about how I don’t give a shit, respectfully.”
“It’s not that simple, Shira Nation is crawling through all of your platforms like aggressive termites.”
I step out on the balcony to get some fresh air. “That’s insane. This literally has nothing to do with me. It’s not like we broke up yesterday. I didn’t want him an hour ago and I don’t want him now.”
“I know. I know. I’m about to meet up with the team so we can discuss.”
“Okay, I’m about to go live with the cast…”
“No!” He shouts like I was about to walk into fire. “Don’t go live until we have a plan.”
“But I always go live at one of these things. Wouldn’t changing my behavior be weird?”
