The other day I was frustrated as fuck by a text received past midnight, sent by a dude who I was supposed to see that night. He didn't manage to text me all day, yet there he was… hitting me up at 12:15 am asking me what's up, while I gave up on his ass and went to bed.

Trust me. I GET IT. I know what this is. I'm in New York, shit is crazy casual over here. I already know.

However, I am me.

I am me, and I am better than your booty call.

I realize this is a two-way street, and I can have my cake and eat it too. I have. However, the moment you fail to treat me with enough respect to send me a simple text message to confirm plans I'm pretty much done. No thank you, sir. I know this isn't going to lead anywhere, its not meant to. It is what it is.

Cool. Its mutual.

But then I am reminded that I am better than this. I try to turn it off. I try not to give a fuck, but I am better than this. I am worth your time before 11pm. I am worth a lobster dinner without obligations. I am worth the extra effort and time in your day.

"If she's easy, she won't be amazing. If she's amazing, she won't be easy."

Fact: I'm amazing.
#betterthanyourbootycall