The Geometry of Exposure at the Motel by the Sea

I sat on this mint-green lounge chair like a sacrificial lamb wrapped in silk, basking under the sun that demanded everything and gave nothing back. The ocean roared with indifference behind me, but here? Here was where I weaponized my warmth against the cold calculus of modern dating.

Men walk by these motels thinking they are looking for shelter from loneliness; what they really crave is a place to burn their inhibitions down to ash while pretending it's just 'casual.' My polka-dot armor clung tighter than any relationship I could have maintained, leaving nothing hidden and everything understood. It’s funny how healing feels so much like drowning when the water is warm enough.

I don't wait for princes who need saving; I simply exist in high definition until they realize their own desperation requires a little more courage to approach. They think this view makes me lonely? No, darling. This emptiness gives me space to be exactly as dangerous and magnetic as I wish.

Editor: Cinderella’s Coach