kk

The tether in my pocket buzzed. One from the newest girl and another from you. The sandwiching technique is a little unsettling. Are you there, God?

And the game is getting really, really old.

I’m not sure if you even know you’re doing it, but I think you do. If I stray too far, then a well-timed life crisis occurs, or, barring cleverly-concocted crises, a guilt trip snares round my feet.

Here’s the thing, though: either way, you win.
And I’m going to let you, happily.

Option A: your guilt trip works, and you get to keep me around as a friend or a concerned confidant whom you can appropriately guilt trip again whenever you feel like I’m not holding up my end of the needy rope.

Or

Option B: I throw my hands in the air, disgusted, annoyed, and admit that you were right all along, that I just don’t have it in me to stick around and be a decent friend.

Isn’t winning fun?

Here’s my strategy: tactical fucking retreat.
Call me when you grow up.