Sometimes I wonder if I’m emotionally frozen or if New York really has no men for me. It seems the majority are “nnn-tsss nnn-tsss nnn-tsss” (club) men, and while it really has been years since I’ve bothered to meet anyone, I refuse to jam myself into a role that forces me to toss trust, honor, friendship, and integrity into the toilet just for a relationship.
Just recently, was I catching-up with a guy that I briefly dated years ago, but within about an hour he sent me an unsolicited, half-naked photo in his bathroom mirror. I was slightly horrified. My head jerked back from my phone as if to get away – I must have looked like a chicken having seizures, my head snapping back and forth, both wanting to turn away, but all the while looking back as if I was watching a train purposely wreck itself.
Who, in his eva-lovin’ right mind, would send a half naked photo of himself within a day of meeting – or even reconnecting – with someone?? It immediately confirmed with me that I had made the right choice to disconnect with this guy years ago. He apparently still hasn’t learned a damn thing. You just don’t do that. There’s no class in that. He devalued himself with one press of the Send button.
All I can do now is shake my head. With every encounter, I’m left with the notion that no, there really is no one in New York that I would even remotely consider, and yet I’m trapped here until my son is 18. The only difference is now I fully embrace the cold. I got myself to keep me warm.