I’ve always been one tough cookie.

At least it seems that way. I have been a firm believer that acting like you don’t give a damn makes you a less vulnerable person. You can’t hurt if you don’t care. It’s easier to hit the delete button than face any true emotion and frankly it makes for a better story to tell your friends over a bottle of vino. However, there comes a time, out of the blue, where it stops working. When the delete function no longer captures that same, “slap in the face” sting that you’d like it to. That really the sting comes from your inability to hear a brotha out.

I’d love to say I can attribute this quality that I have, the “no really, it actually is your loss” characteristic, to the many men in my life with cocky attitudes and women hanging off of them. But really this comes down to the ladies who grace me with their presence daily. Not one has ever been short of a guy (I almost said good guy, but quickly deleted it). Not one has ever had to think twice about sending up a peace sign, to the side, in the direction of a man who wasn’t worth their time. Whether he was prince charming, or lucifer, it was easy. Plain and simple. Until that catches up to you.

Frankly I thought about deleting this post itself. But a little light facebook stalking made me recognize that it isn’t so easy breezy anymore. It may not forever change my quick fix approach but my second favourite Glee song has made me remember that reaching out, never knowing if there is a hand to hold, is ok. So what do you say?

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