Open letter to flaky men


Hey you,

How’s your day been? Good? Can we chat?

So here’s the thing – as a writer, I take it as my personal responsibility, on behalf of my girl gang, to pen this one for you. I’ll never become that feminist who wants to light a fire cracker under your arse and wish your handsome posse didn’t exist. There’s no fun in that. Somehow our generation finds joy in the stupid games that men and women play with each other. I can live with that; I like games and I’m very competitive.

However, let’s talk about conversations that start with ‘Why do guys’. I’ve found myself an audience to these, and a narrator more recently. Tell me, why do you guys flake away? You know when you text but don’t hang out, pen pal us after the third date, and make plans but don’t follow through? You’re hot, then cold again, then really hot, then ice cold again, before you fade into oblivion.

You know what’s good when flaky? A warm toasted croissant. You, my dear, don’t deserve the culinary satisfaction that comes with the French pastry.

There is a panoply of women out there who genuinely start to question their sanity and self-worth after being a victim of Episode Flaky #87 by Douchebag #39. How are we allowing this?

Your flakiness could be a direct respond to a ‘spark’ missing. An ex reappearing in your life, on your door, in tears, in nothing but a trench. Busy at work. You finding a better match on Tinder. About 78592 other girls on your phone who you’re having mindless no-strings-attached conversations with. Or you’re just not into us. We get it. The disposability of dating has a reputation to live up to, and by all means, you live that. But here’s the thing – when you’re in your prime moment of flakiness, women tend to create this drama, suspense, mystery, sauce, steam, doubt, questions, answers, scenarios etc in our heads. And coming out of that involves 20 bootcamp classes, some meditation sessions and two full moons.

In a personal narrative, I would like women to fall in love with themselves really, really hard first, then fall into a bowl of wine, and then, maybe, fall for someone else. Sadly, my agenda doesn’t bode well with what women usually do. Heck, I don’t follow my own rules. What do I know?

If I’ve learnt anything about men, it’s that you guys are simple creatures. You don’t go into hypothetical our-life-after-60 tales after the first date (jealous!). So it shouldn’t be so hard for you to straight up tell us: ‘Mate, soz. I’m not into you, this isn’t working out. I actually don’t think we should see each other again’.

Do this, gain 100 points, and climb up level 2 in your ridiculous game.

This, my friend, is a polite alternative to ghosting. Because ghosting and flakiness is just rude. No one will tell you otherwise. Unless you speak to Casper, who for obvious reasons, is a big fan of ghosting. Join him, or listen to this plea that’s come from the multitude of single women in my life.

(By ‘multitude of single women’ I mean me).

Just don’t be an asshole.

Great chat.