Swipe Left on Me

Swipe Left on Me

You know, I deleted the app.

Not because I couldn’t get matches—
but because I finally saw what I was matching with.

Men who didn’t want to know me,
just wanted access to me.
Men who said “let’s talk,”
but only if talking led to their bed.

There was one,
I told him upfront—
I’m not here for a hookup.
Even if it’s casual,
I want to feel a connection.
I want to talk first. Know you.
Be seen.

And the moment I said that?
He pulled back.
Like I’d ruined the game.
Suddenly, I wasn’t worth the effort.
Until he said—
“I’ll stay up and talk to you… if you come to me.”

Not because he missed my voice.
Not because he cared.
But because he thought I’d fold.

That I’d confuse attention
with intention.

And I realized then—
he didn’t want me.
He wanted the version of me
who didn’t ask for conversation,
who didn’t set boundaries,
who didn’t say no.

He wanted silence in a woman’s shape.

And I’m done being polite
in the face of manipulation.

So I deleted the app.
Not out of bitterness—
but out of self-respect.

Because if the price of being wanted
is abandoning myself,
then I’ll pay nothing.

I’d rather be alone
than be half-loved.