Tessa ReneeWe went on one date. ONE. Suddenly you’re texting me like we share a mortgage, asking where I am, who I’m with, and when you can see me again. Relax. You don’t get access to my calendar, my bedtime, or my free time just because we split an appetizer.
Obsessive energy isn’t flattering, it’s suffocating. Let me miss you. Let me wonder. If you’re on my phone more than my own mother after a single drink, that’s not romance, that’s a red flag.
Final Word: We’re not in a relationship. We barely shared fries.
Disclaimer: Don’t confuse “interest” with “attachment.” This is storytelling, not psychoanalysis.
Tessa Renee
