Rejection & Pity

     Absolutely convinced, she walked out and anxiously directed her Lyft driver to the ungoogleable side-street. Three turns short of an Austin Powers sequel he arrived in time to find her awkwardly engaged by the last Tinder date she'd ever have. His words sounded offensive and reminiscent of construction cat calls or the odd shouting of a drunken racist as he watches the Olympics. She left to rid her life of the garbage represented by image driven connections to men online. She deleted the app again for the last time and opened the ice cream-less freezer, thankful for the maliciously sober decisions bent on depriving her maligned self from picking at fresh scabs.

     When she woke the memory of things gained was lost amidst heaps of confusing abrasion. Everything she could remember about the would-be suitor repulsed her and sparked an internal conversation bent on getting to the bottom of modern attraction. She couldn't stand the idea that a confident woman in the new millennium would feel the need to be bound to a man. Historically marriage placed women and their dowry on par with peace, a concept as speech-worthy as it is inapplicable in the Middle East.

    To be pitied however is quite painful. A friend who rejoices in the fact that they can never be you, is a crack in the wall of the 8 ft pool you call your life. A few summer parties in tubes and bikinis leaks to a solitary forty year old skateboarder shredding apart property values. Pity wins when compared to rejection though. To be pitied assumes you had potential to do better. When a woman rejects you the whole world joins in. Rejection either demands a pitiable person emerge or someone never worthy of acceptance in the first place.