I Don’t Date Fuckboys.. Just The Almost ones.

No, I don’t date fuckboys. I have taste. I date the ones who left without ever fully arriving. Those are the ones who got me. Not the villains. Not the obvious red flags. The men who almost stayed. Almost showed up. Almost loved me.

I don’t fall for the ones who vanish right after undressing me, who flirt like it’s oxygen and apologize like it’s optional.

I fall for the ones who say just enough truth to keep me believing the rest is coming.

The ones who don’t disappear, they linger.

They orbit.

They send “hope you’re good” texts at 1:14 a.m.

and ask how I’ve been like they didn’t shatter me in lowercase.

They’re not villains. They’re men with half-built homes in their chests and no idea how to let someone in without setting off alarms.

And I don’t think they meant to hurt me.

Not him. He was tender. He was different.

He didn’t make me feel like a just a body…I think a part of him really did want to let me in.

But the truth is, you can be soft and still unsafe.

Maybe he didn’t know how to hold something real without fearing it would expose everything he hadn’t healed yet.

And maybe that’s not cruelty… it’s capacity.

I stuck around. Hoping that things would go back to how they were in the beginning. When I didn’t feel like a was someone who was waiting around for him to see me. If I’m being honest though, I was holding back too. never really letting him see all of me and letting him in fully.

I came to the conclusion though, that almost feels like home for me.

Because I learned to call tension love and silence safety.

Because almost showing up meant I never had to face the full rejection of being truly seen and still not chosen.

So I made excuses.

I matched their avoidant energy with anxious loyalty.

I called it chemistry.

I called it patience.

Sometimes I even called it fate.

Because I don’t fall for surface. I read souls, not resumes.. I don’t care what your reputation is because I haven’t always had the best either. I fall for the spark behind the shadow. I want to believe my love is enough to wake someone up and change them.

But here’s the truth I’m finally tasting:

I don’t want to feel more alive in the hurt than in the presence.

I don’t want half-truths. I don’t want “maybe later” or “I didn’t mean to disappear.”

I don’t want to keep romanticizing inconsistency and calling it soul work. I want someone who doesn’t need to lose me to miss me. Who doesn’t confuse chaos for connection.

I don’t date fuckboys.

I date the ones who could’ve been great if only they had the courage.

The almost men. With almost hearts. And the almost love that kept me believing I was close to something real.

I’m not the girl you almost love.

I want to be the woman who chooses herself… loudly, fiercely, and without apology.

You almost loved me.

I almost waited.

But your almost was never going to be enough.

Everything is aligned.

Mel