When Blocking Someone Is the Most Loving Thing You Can Do—for Yourself
TikTok video from 2023-03-16
Okay, story time.
Let’s talk about the Speed Skater.
Now, if you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably heard me mention him here and there. He’s been in and out of my life for about four years—yes, four. And not in a steady, building-something-together kind of way. More like a ghost with good abs and great sexts who floats in, makes me smile, stirs the pot, and then vanishes just in time for a date we’d planned.
But here’s the thing.
He’s always done one thing really well.
He follows one of my personal rules: he keeps talking.
He’s always let me know when he’s thinking about me. When he’s feeling spicy. When he’s aching. When his mind wanders to the last time we were together (or the time we almost were). And honestly? I liked it. I love being desired. I loved the attention. The texts. The photos. The fantasy.
And for a while, that felt like enough.
We never had much consistency—he’s flaked on more dates than I can count. But I tolerated it, because the in-between moments gave me dopamine hits. And because, let’s be honest, part of me didn’t want to let go of the potential.
But then—this week—I had a moment.
You know those quiet, clear, everything-in-focus epiphanies?
I was standing in my kitchen, coffee in hand, phone lighting up with yet another “I’m not gonna make it” message, and it just hit me:
I’m worth the effort.
I’m not the backup plan.
I’m not the “maybe if I have time.”
I’m not the body you text when you’re bored and horny but can’t be bothered to show up.
So here’s what happened.
We had a date scheduled.
Nothing extravagant. Just a plan. A time. A place.
And again, no word from him when the time rolled around.
I texted to ask for an update.
He casually replied, “Oh no, I can’t meet today.”
No apology.
No explanation.
Just—Oh no.
So I took a breath.
I looked at that message.
And then… I blocked him.
No rage.
No dramatic exit.
Just a quiet reclaiming of my energy.
It was long overdue.
And now I’m sitting here wondering—how long do you think it’ll take him to notice?
This man might not even realize he’s blocked for months.
He’ll probably try to send a photo or a horny “thinking of you” message sometime mid-autumn and go, “Huh. That’s weird.”
And you know what? I kind of love that for me.
Because this isn’t about punishing him. It’s not about drama.
It’s about choosing myself—finally, fully.
I want lovers who show up.
Who make plans and keep them.
Who don’t just desire me in theory, but invest in me in reality.
I’m not mad. I’m not even sad.
Honestly? I’m free.
Free from the waiting.
Free from the disappointment.
Free from the cycle of “maybe next time” and “he means well” and “he’s just busy.”
No.
I’m busy too.
Busy being radiant and ready and surrounded by people who actually show the fuck up.
So, Speed Skater…
Thanks for the fantasy.
But I’ve outgrown it.
I’m skating into something better now.
