They play with her, they have sex with her, they have tea, conversation. They always tell her about the woman that they saw at the coffee shop. The one with the perfect looks, exactly what they like. They tell her about the girl they were obsessed with, that consumed them for weeks, months, years. They tell her about the day they finally got to have that girl and how intense it was.

They like to open up to her. They feel comfortable. She makes them more tea. Offers them a beer. They go out on her balcony and watch the sky turn dark. They always love her cats. They like how well she listens to them. Nodding at the right place, looking them in the eye. They like that she's smart, they think it's cool. But they don't want a smart girlfriend, that's too dangerous.

They don't know, because she'll never tell them, that she hates them. She hates being the good listener. She hates being one of the guys. She hates feeling like the friend. She wants to be the perfect looks, exactly what they like. She hates falling in love with someone and they brush it off because she's smart and cool, but just not hot enough to display as their girlfriend.

She's tired of hearing "fuck you're so cool! That's why I love you!" but that brand of love is the kind that gets brushed aside when the object of obsession doesn't want to join the party that night.

She's tired. She's just tired, and feeling sad, and feeling alone, and feeling underappreciated, and underestimated. She is taken for granted.