Some messages are better left unread… just like some men.

I couldn’t help but wonder…

Do some men text us because they miss us… or just miss having access?

There’s a particular kind of man.

Let’s call him the midnight poet.

He doesn’t speak in full sentences or real intentions just sudden DMs, digital breadcrumbs, and an occasional “Where are you?” that somehow feels romantic and ridiculous at the same time.

You know the type. He once left your life without warning, maybe even hit “unfollow” like it was a breakup. You let it go. Grew your nails, your mindset, your entire life. And then, like magic—or bad WiFi—he’s back.

No apology.

No context.

Just… a follow. A like. A moment. A message.

Recently, I ran into one of these ghosts in the most ironic of places: family cake duty. It was innocent. Civil. We both pretended we hadn’t once known each other intimately in silence. You know that secret kind of closeness that lives between what you show and what you hide.

We said hi. We smiled.

We pretended not to remember.

But our eyes? They remembered everything.

And then, last night because of course it was last night the message came:

“Where are you? Can you help me?”

No emojis. Just vibes. Dangerous ones.

And for a moment, I almost replied.

Not because I wanted him. But because I remembered being wanted.

But here’s the plot twist:

I didn’t.

Because sometimes, the strongest thing you can do isn’t blocking someone. It’s simply… not replying. Not engaging. Not letting someone confuse proximity with permission.

Some men are like déjà vu familiar, fleeting, and best left unexplored the second time around.

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