single. taken. married. whore.

sitting at home on a rainy sat night, i get to thinking. and naturally, i start to thinking about my relationship status. when you’re single and just at the cusp of 30 and all you hear are talks of weddings and babies – you really can’t help but think about your status 24/7. 

single. taken. married. whore.

i don’t remember whore ever being an option. so please, don’t treat me as one. and just like that, in one second, i’m heated. i can’t believe the shit i’ve been through. the shit i take. and act like it doesn’t phase me, just to front like i don’t care. don’t give him the upper hand of thinking i ever cared. problem is, i did care. i do care.

on one occasion, i found out the boy i was dating had a girlfriend through myspace. and after denials and lies, i degraded myself to being the other woman. he even had the audacity to bring her over to my apartment because he was caught in a lie. and we even exchanged hello’s, standing there, all three of us. one whole awkward situation. each one of us knowing who the other was, but lying through our lips as if it were the first time we had met each other.

on a separate occasion, i allowed the boy who i actually let into my sheltered heart back into my life. he hurt me, made me feel unworthy, and chose to be in a long distance relationship with some other girl several states away, when i was there just 20 minutes away. and in my mind, i believed i had let him go and reasoned with my heart that we could just be friends. so on our first night back together, we laid in bed. side by side, but thousand miles apart. because she was still there. i heard his phone go off. and i heard her on the other end. even as we laid, just him and i. she was still there.

and on several occasions. i let me be their drunken text. their late night booty call. the receiving end to their sext. because i flaunt my sexuality. front myself as an empowered woman in control of my body. but what it comes down to — is i’m his whore.

i was talking to a male friend about all this. and he said it was my karma. like i deserved this. initially, i was pissed at him. but truth is, it was truth. i allow myself to believe their lies. and i allow myself to think i deserve this. i answer their calls, i reply to their texts, i meet them on their conveniences, i’m their last call because i’ll always be there.

respect. if i want respect, i gotta respect myself. love. if i want love, i gotta love myself. so put the phone down. don’t respond to every call. you don’t deserve to be his last resort.

because, on the real, any man would be so blessed to be with me. i am beautiful. i am strong. i am independent. i am witty and funny. intelligent, street and school. devoted, kind, compassionate. i am all these things. and, hunny, i’m not your whore.