“That's unnecessary.”
“So is your face, but your mother kept you anyway.”
His mouth falls open.
Nearby, somebody snorts.
Actually snorts.
I think it's the bartender.
I feel slightly better.
Brad-or-Chad apparently does not appreciate comedy.
“You know, this is why you're still single.You don’t know when to close your mouth—not for food or words, apparently.”
And there it is.
The insult all plus-sized women know by heart.
As if our relationship status is somehow a punishment.
As if love is something we're supposed to earn.
Something inside me wilts a little.
Not because I believe him.
Because I'm tired.
Tired of proving myself.
Tired of hoping.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of wondering if maybe everyone else is right.
Maybe my prince really is coming someday.
Maybe I just need to be patient.
But patience gets lonely.
And I want more.
I want love.
I want a family.
I want someone who looks at me like I matter.
Is that really so much to ask?
Across the room, the handsome biker's expression darkens.
Really darkens.
