The Wrong Man

You didn’t invite me to game night,

though I sat beside you as you planned

said you thought you asked me,

said it must’ve slipped your mind.

But you filled your house with women

you can’t stop looking at.

Funny how your memory works

when attraction is involved.

I waited for flowers

like they were some secret test,

but I had to spell it out,

ask for proof you thought of me

when I wasn’t in front of you.

Romance shouldn’t need instructions, Kevin.

You went to birthday parties

without saying my name,

laughed too loud, stayed too late,

went home smelling like tequila and indifference.

I learned the guest list by omission—

if you found her pretty, I wasn’t invited.

And God, the staring.

Right in front of me.

Like I was see-through,

and my hurt invisible.

As long as you never touched them,

you called it harmless.

I called it embarrassing.

You answered the group chat in seconds,

smiling at words I’d already sent,

mine left on read,

like it wasn’t what was said

but who was saying it.

So don’t show up now

with excuses and hindsight,

don’t stand at my door

with half-assed apologies.

I was your then.

I was your chance.

If this were a movie,

you’d be begging me to stay,

telling me it was all a mistake.

But this is my life,

and I finally learned the hard way:

I wasn’t asking for too much.

I was asking the wrong man.

**********************************************************************Based on true events and inspired by Taylor Swift’s song Betty.