Many of men shake my emotions to the core: twisting, toiling, teasing the tip of my cock or whispering in my ear, “You’re like no man I’ve ever met.”

Where are they now?

Deleted texts, but no missed FaceTimes.

There are two categories of my dating life. The first is the co-dependent, obsessed boy that I push aside because I need a man, not a boy. A man can stand on his own, just like I’ve done for 29 years. Then there’s the second category: the lost puppy who plays with the idea of me. He takes me off the shelf, winds me up, then puts me back to collect dust while he ventures out into the streets in search of the very thing he abandoned.

I’m blowing off the dust and taking myself off the shelf. I will no longer allow myself to be played with in this way. It’s not fucking fair.

Today, as I walked through the woods of the small town of Emerson, GA, I found myself hyperventilating through tears, tired of replaying memories from years ago when I was left bleeding while they walked away unscathed, only to reemerge with a boyfriend after telling me they weren’t ready for a relationship.

When someone says, “I’m not ready for a relationship,” what he really means is, “I’m not ready for a relationship with you.” After years of cowards not being direct with me, I’ve learned to translate for them. Because while many claim to speak English, they do not speak Golden.

The lyrics of Lost play in my mind, and I feel in my heart the emotions Dermot Kennedy felt when he recorded. You can’t make someone see that He shines. He has to see it for himself.

So, you keep walking. Run as fast as you can if you have to, whatever it takes to get away. Fly to Amsterdam. Move across the country. Pack a Rimowa and never return.

It’s your life, and you must live it to the fullest. But never forget, wherever you fly to, there you are.