THE DATING GAMES
Caroline Lewis
The odds’ll ever be
in your favor, they said to me,
You’ll find a great
man who loves your company.
He’ll be tall, dark,
and handsome, extremely devoted,
An entrepreneur,
boxers fully loaded.
Smooth to the
parents, and hot to my friends,
He’ll be charismatic,
with a tight rear end.
Intelligence like
Albert with Brad’s good looks,
Always in the kitchen
cause he loves to cook.
Well now I’m
twenty-five, no longer a girl,
And I’m onto your
lies, it seems the truth has unfurled.
To T.V., Disney, and
my mom, at last,
I have one message—odds
my ass.
I’ve been fed to the
wolves, a salted piece of meat,
Fighting my way for
survival, dodging unyielding defeat.
My tools in the
arena, wit and strategy,
Faking illnesses and
emergencies to leave the date early.
With every date, the
hope in my heart beats less and less,
Adjusting himself,
fixated on the waitress’ breasts.
My will for a
relationship with love and meaning,
Succumbing to death,
weakening with every beating.
A victim of this
world called the dating games,
Without a choice,
thrown into the burning flames.
Expectations of
family pressing harder with age,
Wondering if I’ll
ever get married, or if women turn my page.
Don’t know how much
longer I can survive in this cold and lonely setting,
They’re trying to
take me down—unfaithful, unrelenting,
Selfish, stubborn,
demanding, all the above,
Fuck my odds. Here’s
to the death of love.
But lo and behold,
another just like me,
Stuck in this arena,
dying internally.
Cautious and guarded,
hurt from the pain,
Together we build
each other, outsmarting the game.
He’s everything you
said he’d be Mom, loving and down to Earth,
Being struck down by
the others, made me acknowledge this man’s worth.
We found victory in
each other, the road rugged and long,
Little did we know,
the odds were in our favor all along.
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