Unavailable men are everywhere.
I have loved a few.
It is probably for the best that I do not name names.
Not for my sake – I was aware that they were all unavailable – that they would love me until they stopped just like how my daddy was Daddy until he wasn’t.
Because my experience with absence started early, I’ve learned to love the happy memories. I’ve learned to say “thank you for loving me” instead of “This is how I needed you to love me.” I’ve learned that the sum of happiness is more. It does not matter how many men, how many memories I have to piece together because…
…Jigsaws are beautiful.
Just like my heart and its many cracks.
So thank you for the days when you could not be there…would not be there.
Thank you for the dropped phone calls and the deleted texts. Thank you for the alternate emails and the private messages in public spaces. For the hotel rooms and the subterfuge and the excuses. Thank you for the stroke of your hand that set me on fire and the stolen kisses and my many wishes that you were never going to make come true.
This is not a treatise on the many men who dumped me.
This is a tribute.