fwb? bring tools.

you men love to psuedo-fall in love with me.
baby, don’t lie—
you were picturing our child.
you saw one selfie and thought,
damn,
i could maybe build a life with her.

but let’s be real:
you’re not built for that.
you were just hoping i’d build it for you.
then let you co-star.

and then you hit me with:
“i’m down for fwb but no expectations.”

oh word?
revolutionary.
you don’t want me to catch feelings?
(to want to lock it down?)
baby, i’m already locked down.
(to law school. to my kid. to greatness.)

i’m always locked down.
men will follow anything that feeds and fucks them—
let’s not pretend this is an achievement.

sounds more like you just want to fuck a baddie
and offer nothing—
and you forget—

i’m smarter than you.
finer than you.
funnier than you.
more healed than you.
and unfortunately for you,
not even slightly impressed.

let’s get one thing straight:
i’m not applying to be your fantasy.
you’re auditioning not to get blocked.

you want to fuck me
like i’m your emotional support goddess
but become “busy” the second i need
dinner delivered or the car jumped?
baby—
no.

you want “softness and non-judgment”
while offering me… what?
vague texts?
some mid-level attention
and your childhood trauma?

this isn’t build-a-bitch.

i’ve already been picked.
multiple times.
i’ve had men cry when i left.
men that actually tried.
men who read me poems,
cooked me breakfast,
begged me to have their last name.

you think your “vibe” is going to move me?
you think being hot and literate is enough?

no, babe.
i’m not shook by a story arc.
not by the six-pack.
not by your crypto resurrection.
not by the money you dangle,
so you don’t have to bring effort.

honestly?
boring.

you think you know the game?
i invented the game.
i’m the scoreboard.
the rules.
the final boss.

you can’t run game on the architect.
you can’t finesse the blueprint.

because sweetheart—
you’re giving:
zero tangible assets,
zero emotional intelligence,
zero grown-ass-man energy.

so just remember:

unless you’re bringing more than
dick and a good story—
(tools, dinner, anything fucking useful)
do not bother.

please don’t ask to touch god if you’re not prepared to kneel.