This Can’t be Life

Yesterday, my Twitter feed buzzed with a story — a video in which a man tells his former girlfriend why he cheated on her. I didn’t watch the video (I don’t do tragedy porn), but after reading tweet after tweet about how hard women love and how men take advantage of said love, and how love and infidelity can’t co-exist, my brain exploded.

[Side note: I read Waiting to Exhale at 10 years old. It’s one of my favorite books. I don’t love it enough to read it every time I log on to social media.]

Is this a me thing? Because I’m not dating, am I sensitive to how much people talk about relationships? Am I hungover from the extravaganza of heart eye emojis and “how you should be spending Valentine’s Day” social media posts? I have no answers. Just more questions.

He loves me. He loves me not. She curved me. She says I’m not her type. These men don’t. These women don’t. Love ain’t like it used to be. Social media is killing romance. Men are trash. Women are irrational. These feminists/females. These fuckboys/hoteps.

This. Can’t. Be. It.

Did I absorb all that Books Before Boys Because Boys Bring Babies propaganda in my childhood only to find that nothing in adult life matters more than romantic relationships?

I need a trap door that leads to an alternative dimension where life is more than this.

Or maybe I should spend less time on my phone.

Yes, I see the hypocrisy in plugging a book about my love life whilst wondering if that’s all anyone ever talks about. A) Humans are contradictory. B) The hustle don’t stop, B.

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