Question Noodle Soup

My ex said all the right words. Romantic — until he won the prize he was chasing. Romantic — until I couldn’t meet every need he imagined.

Even the ones I was never built to meet.

He told me in actions I was never really his type.

I should have seen it — I was a mask he hid behind, while I blamed myself for not fitting a costume I was never meant to wear.

I saw the signs. But I trusted the poetry more than the fine print. I called red flags decorations.

With him, I learned:

You cannot love someone hard enough to make them love you honestly.

Trust without awareness becomes a life sentence.

And fake love is the cruelest kind of love there is.

So after him — I let romance rest.

---

Then a friend of eighteen years shifted into focus.

He showed up when he said he would. Waited for the “I made it home safe” text. Made stupid store puns with me — “Let’s taco-bout it.”

Helped without being asked. Listened without needing credit.

And suddenly my mind filled with Question Noodle Soup.

Had this always been here? Was I blind before? Was this supposed to…?

I froze. Stared at the bowl. Smacked my forehead.

Nope. Romance isn’t real. Throw it back on the grill.

---

But he entertained another.

I don’t mind people sampling menus — I mind being the full meal while you sneak bites under the table.

He came back later asking if I’d seat him again.

I smiled.

“I’m hungry all the time,” I said, “just not enough to cook steak for someone meant for a hot pocket.”

So again — my heart went back to rest.

---

I tried once more with another friend, and our friendship changed for the worst

Jealousy grew where laughter lived. One month of magic, followed by confusion.

The man who once calmed storms started creating them.

The spoon hit the bowl — more Question Noodle Soup. Crackers of excuses. Broth of half-truths.

And again, I closed the kitchen.

---

I lecture myself:

Let your heart rest. You’d think you’d learn. Why are you still hopeful? Nobody stays loyal anyway.

Yet memory answers back.

There was once a time love wasn’t frightening — just something you worked at instead of ran from.

And once — long ago — I met someone who made my soul leap.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… unmistakably.

Life destroyed paths for both of us, yet the echo never left.

In dreams he still crosses my mind like a place I’ve already lived.

So I lock my heart again. Keep it safe. Hide it well.

Because men speak beautifully until reality inconveniences them.

Words flow like a dam reopening — loud, impressive, temporary.

---

Yet my heart whispers back:

You know the difference. You know the feeling of peace. You know when it’s him.

Every notification — a small spark of hope.

Is it him? No.

Is it him? No.

Should I reach out? No.

Ding.

And still — some foolish light inside me believes one day a man will be honest, safe, and true.

But until proven otherwise,

I’ll keep my heart in its cage and put the Question Noodle Soup back on the shelf.