I’m Not Going To Text Him Until He Texts Me Or Until I Think About How Grandma Died Alone

So, after dealing with some childish drama from my on-and-off boyfriend Greg, I decided that there’s no way I’m gonna hit him up first anymore because his standoffish, “I don’t give a fuck” attitude isn’t charming anymore—it’s super disrespectful and I deserve better. So, I’m not going to text him until he texts me, or until I think about how Grandma died alone on a cold winter’s day with nobody by her side. Whichever comes first.


I mean, why doesn’t Greg ever hit me up first? I think he’s playing games with me, making me want him or something. I’m not gonna say it’s not working, but it’s manipulative and honestly something I just do NOT have the energy for right now. If he wants to hang out with me and hits me up to hang, so be it, but in the meantime I’m gonna do my damn thing and live my life, at least until I start thinking about Grandma and how she passed away all by herself in that weird lonely cabin upstate. When Grandpa died in 1999, she never really seemed to recover, and never got into any more relationships out of spite and confusion. She was too stubborn and she ended up slowly fading from the light of life all by her lonesome—with nobody’s hand to hold, and nobody to talk to about the approaching chasm of consciousness that is death. But I also don’t wanna give Greg the satisfaction of being texted first.


It just feels so submissive in a way that challenges my sense of individuality and makes me feel like I’m needy since he’s never gotten in touch with me first. Fuck him! He didn’t really do anything wrong, but he definitely did in some way. I just have to figure it out. But then like, also…Grandma dying by herself was so sad. Fuck.



Even though he’s always blowing me off and ignoring my texts for hours, we’re so good when we are together and that doomed feeling of being forsaken on my deathbed without children or a lover to softly guide me into fate’s inky envelopment goes away. When I’m with him, I’m frequently annoyed by the way he speaks about his female coworkers and how much he drools when he laughs, but also I really don’t want to die alone like Grandma.


So I guess I’m gonna keep texting him, not because we’re good for each other, but because I never, ever want to die like Grandma.