Slick has survived the grippa.  I’m happy to finally know what’s going on, but apparently, facing mortality hasn’t made him appreciate me more.  It’s okay.  He’s not obligated to.  It’s just that since I’m no longer giving anyone a break for cultural differences, the way he’s behaving since he thought he had me tells me he doesn’t really want me.  I don’t force myself on anyone.  If someone only wants to see me when they’re horny, then there are many fine prostitutes in Haifa.

His first mistake was the constant messaging instead of calling.  We’re both poets, so I let that pass since we’re both pretty comfortable expressing ourselves in text.  Still, when the conversation becomes more complex than greeting, a guy should actually call.  If not, it’s annoying.  I am also much better able to blow someone off in text than I am in person.  I can look someone in the eye and tell him to shove it, but if I’m not convinced, then it’s just more difficult.  I’ll probably take longer to come to that point, and might be persuaded to change my mind or be less harsh, depending on what I see in front of me.

If a guy who isn’t particularly close to me is trying to chat me up from a safe distance, I’d just as soon keep that distance.  Frightened little mice are unsexy.

His second mistake was pretending to care.  Pretending to care is a silly thing when there are so many women out there dripping for guys who don’t care about them.  He could have already gamed and shagged one of the gold digging whores prowling the Carmel every weekend, in the time it took to message me.  I’ve watched him do it.

Now I feel kind of stupid for worrying about whether or not he had died.  Worse, for letting him know I was worried about him.  That was a mistake on my part.  If anything, that is more to blame for tonight’s annoyance than his stupidity.  He can’t help being stupid any more than I can help caring, but I am more aware of the pitfalls of caring than he is of the stupidity of taking advantage of someone’s care.  I should have played it colder.  It would still have ultimately ended in us not getting together, but I’d have been spared him thinking that he had a chance.

His third mistake is in believing that his dick is special.  This is the part where it gets fun.  He has been replaced by someone much more appreciative.  For posting purposes, we’ll call him Sky.  He’s an extreme construction worker…the guy who hangs off a crane.

He’s divorced, and has a live in girlfriend, but is staying with her for the kids.  He’s already been through the “marriage 2.0” situation.  So he was stupid, but he’s learned his lesson by having to look at a hot blonde who thinks the world revolves around her materialist whims every day.  He’s a little shorter than me, but very muscular, so when the time comes, I’m sure he’ll be up to the task at hand.  I hope so anyway.  We’ll see.

Anyway, Slick was replaced because he waited until he was horny to message me though I hadn’t heard from him in over a month.  The last I heard from him was in the middle of April.  So I got the message without him saying a word, that he doesn’t even care if I care if he’s alive or dead.  So now, he won’t know that I care.

I told him that I can accept that he thinks I’m worthless.  The problem is that he keeps reminding me how worthless I am to him, and that he should stop.  So I hope that I don’t hear from him again.  Some people are broken, and can’t be fixed.  No matter how much love you show them, they will always throw it back in your face or exploit it.

I hope that Sky won’t make the same mistakes, but this is Israel.  It’s very difficult for someone, especially someone male, to value someone their culture deems worthless by default.  Men’s ideas of social hierarchy get wrapped up in their ideas of honor, so they may profess to be civilized because they want to feel as if they are part of the greater western culture, but their tribalism will win out if they aren’t.  Most guys here are quite primitive in the bad way.  They wear suits or t-shirts and pants like western people, but inside they may as well be in the Congo hacking off limbs, or in India starting a riot over a Dravadian using the wrong type of cup.

So whatever rationalization they use, they’ll find a way to treat me like crap.  There are very few who aren’t savages deep down.  So my hopes aren’t very high, but at least for now, I have a new boy-toy to play with, so I’m cool.  Time will tell whether or not I’m looking at a man or a drone.


My pronouns are whatever you're comfortable with as long as you speak to me with respect. I'm an Afruikan and Iswa refugee living in Canaan. That's African American expat in Israel in Normalian. I build websites, make art, and assist people in exercising their spirituality. I'm also the king of an ile, Baalat Teva, a group of African spirituality adherents here. Feel free to contact me if you are in need of my services or just want to chat.

One Comment:

  1. His first mistake was the constant messaging instead of calling. We’re both poets, so I let that pass since we’re both pretty comfortable expressing ourselves in text.

    I can’t stand when a man text messages me.

    I’m with you: anything more than a simply “hi,” “bye,” or “this is what’s going on” type of text requires a phone call.

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