They want my attention.
I can tell by the way that they hop in my DMs that they think I need it too. They come with sweet words and empty promises of being the one and only and I only want to focus on my business. It’s sexy to them. It’s survival for me.
They want a woman who’s about her paper, but hate when she’s in the middle of the chase. They want me to stop and caress their egos but truthfully baby you can go, ‘cus until I’m signing certificates that’s all that it’ll be for me.
I’m married to the game.
I’m on the path of purpose.
So I hit ignore on purpose and dismiss them with abruptness because basic “what’s up” texts require a level of effort that quite frankly I’m not sure they deserve. And I pay attention to how they handle the curves; most don’t make it past the test drive.
I’m not looking to entertain temporaries.
Nor have I ever been a fan of playing games. I can’t afford to lose; so I cut my losses before they keep me from winning. I’m going for gold. Championship ring to complement the engagement.
And the kind of man that can go one-on-one won’t find me out of their league, they’re the captain of the team. No intimidation necessary; I like it when he leads. And he won’t slow me down, he’ll increase my speed, and I’ll be an enhancement to his dreams. Equally yoked, is how we’ll be.
Distractions. A temporary sacrifice must result in long-term gain, and I can’t afford to stop for a moment of pleasure or a lifetime of pain. The opportunity cost isn’t something I’m willing to pay.