Maybe My Soulmate’s Dead

These can’t be the same men that Destiny’s Child wrote Bills, Bills, Bills or Cater 2 U about. 

These are the ones that text you come over on the weekends when they’re h*rny then don’t speak to you for the whole week. 

These are the ones that remember the little things you say, do, and like but gaslight you when you get attached. 

These are the ones that breadcrumb your situationship, the ones who take you on two dates then you never hear from them again, the ones who swear they are “looking for something serious” when they’re really “figuring out their dating goals.” 

These are the ones you hear from every couple of months when they’re in between dating apps, out of town on business or on a “break” with their “girl.” The ones that have “always liked you” but the “timing wasn’t right.” 

These are the ones you have to shrink yourself for. The ones that make you feel like you’re too much. Too emotional, too clingy, too hopelessly romantic, too invested. 

These are the ones who want your body, but never your heart. The ones that give you attention but never move with intention. The ones that will use you up, and spit you out whenever they so please and move on to the next girl effortlessly. While you close your eyes at night hoping to forget them. The ones that become the last thing you think of when you go to sleep, and the first thing you think of when you wake up. 

This blog has been an ode to the ones who chipped away at my heart, who stole it and never gave it back; but I promised to never let them change me. I think I’ve figured it out. I was born to love those who need love but can’t give it back. I’ll always know how to love, but never who to love. Maybe I was loved in another universe, maybe in another life, or maybe my soulmate’s dead. 

I won’t hold my breath for my Mr. Big.

Xoxo, 

The Black Carrie Bradshaw