Alone at Hank’s Bar on a Friday Night
September 12, 2025
I feel sexy and pathetic.
Just as I expected and yet did not at the same time.
Sometimes I like how flirty I can be.
And sometimes I hate that I think I wanna fuck the bartender.
Feeling insecure tonight about myself.
Everyone seems to be annoyed by me once I show too much of who I am.
And when the people I care about—or I guess want to emotionally regulate—turn away, I seek male validation as a cheap and easy hit of instant gratification.
But just like sex, the idea is always more intriguing than the reality of it.
The desire and shame from getting male attention is something that started in the first year of adulthood and still haunts me six years later.
A cheap shot. A cheap person.
Who I felt like before this cliché cycle that I pretended to be able to handle.
Turns out—or I am always reminded after each run— I am not an unbothered badass as I wanted to be.
Even writing this down makes me cringe. But what is worse is my desire for someone to still be reading this and see me be this way.