It’s so easy now to see the game. The game where men pretend to care and where I believe them. The game where I have to give of my nakedness just to get any prolonged interest. The game where I think if I just show a little more, they will want to know my soul. The game where the only conversation is over text with a three word limit and if they exceed that then I must be a lucky girl and if I exceed that, then I am high maintenance. The game where, if I speak up that I don’t like this game, I get punished by ghosting. The game where if I try to be heard by the ghost, then I’m the crazy one. The game where if I acknowledge a connection, they get angry and punish me with their disconnect. How dare I speak of “connection”! How dare I speak of future possibilities. How dare I ever consider that I would be so lucky to be loved by him, unless, that is, I give another naked pic of myself. Then perhaps….