This is an open letter to all the hot men in my city…
I see you, running down my street biceps flexing all sweaty and shirtless. I see you on my train with your scruffy faces and your cool shades and your leather bags. I see you in your snug jeans with your muscular thighs and tight tshirts.
For many years I pleasantly looked you up and down unnoticed because I have never ever been your type and tho you continue to leave me alone some of you….are looking back.
So I am asking you now. ..stop looking at me.
I have always been nonexistent in your universe. Just because I lost some weight and have slightly better proportions does not mean I am ready or capable of existing on the same plane as you. I am still not your type.
I can barely even imagine my future self. The version of me you will be attracted to, let alone imagine that version of me with you. There is no way in hell I am your type now!so don’t you dare make eye contact with me when you run passed me on the street. Don’t you dare look me up and down when we are passing in the hall or at the gym…I’m not the lover you’re looking for.
Carry on and let me be blissfully irrelevant to you, while I imagine all the wonderful things we will do together when my body is acceptable. ..to me.
No seriously thank you. ..for all the hottness this summer.