It’s Not Me, It’s You.

In the summer of 2017, I went on a few dates and slept with a French Guy who lived in the East Village. Unwittingly and stupidly, I caught feelings.

After date #3, I started to suspect that the French Guy wasn’t into it anymore. While we texted for a few days after, he did not ask me on another date. On a Friday night, I suggested meeting up and his response was that he was out with a coworker who liked to party and he would have a late night. Having finally gotten the hint, I deleted his number from my phone, wrote him off as another New York slash French idiot, and went on my merry way.

That Saturday night, I went out drinking with friends in Battery Park and was enjoying the New Jersey sunset across the Hudson when my iPhone chirped with an unknown number text. The French Guy sent a rambling text about how he is looking for a long term relationship, does not want to see me anymore, and he should have never let things get this far. Way to take the knife and just twist it, French Guy.

So I am just the girl that no one sees a long term relationship future with. Cool.

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