There are a lot of “men” in this realm that still claim to care about you even after affronting you in some awful and unspeakable way–like saying that y’all should go on a trip to Japan together then kind of just going on his own without mentioning it again or offering to introduce you to his parents (even though, frankly Mr. Shankly, that’s more punishment than reward), then suddenly doing an about-face and ghosting so quickly it almost makes you think he found an old sexual test result you had laying around.
When you finally reach out to him, pull from him like the jaws of life some half-assed answer about where it all went wrong, he’ll insist it’s not you, it’s him. His own little internal turmoils and melodramas that make him “ill-equipped” (and not just in the groin region) to handle anything beyond the confines of his computer-generated world. And while you stand there bleeding for him, offering your heart and soul on a silver platter, he’ll sit there nonchalantly wondering what porn motif to watch next. ‘Cause, darlin’, he don’t care ’bout you. You were just a blip on his road to “self-discovery.” And please, try to clean up those blood spots on your way out the door. He’s got other waifs to screw over later in the day.