The Hating of Dating

This devious game of numbers, numbers,

catches me cold, leaves me asunder.

We make mistakes and blurt out blunders;

silence broken by slurps and table legs that thunder.


Clock watching and phone checking too,

texting-texting mates? We’re through.

Nothing matters. Nothing is true.

A date with fate? The joke leaves me blue.


Rare chemistry and raw connections,

like a strawberry cream in a chocolate selection.

Searching for real love and affection

but looking in the wrong direction.


I had it once and now it’s gone.

This dating game carousels on and on.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fun.

I quit the game. I’m gone. I’m done.



One response to “The Hating of Dating

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