i write because i'm happier when i write. not because i'm a good writer.

-shanita john-

Love. Sick.

Notes Novel #1 - June 2014. written by thumbs.

God, I hate online dating.

All those giant, doughy faces and large, oily foreheads. Chinless visages with jawlines that blend seamlessly into necks, into shoulders, into man boobs.

They all think they deserve me and I hate them for it. I hate me for it.

Those of them with jawlines aren't there because they can't make sense of the bar scene, the church scene, the community center bingo scene. They're online because they got bored one beer and decided they needed to broaden their reach. It's not enough to have beautiful women pursuing them in real life. No, there's a little something the ego needs that it can only get from having a sea of desperate women, kept at arm's length, for you to ignore or reject.

Fleeing neckbeards and excessive body hair, they come. It's most rewarding to neglect the sincere ones. The poor dears are so rattled by the sight of a chiseled chest through a cotton v-neck that they flood those gated inboxes with pleasantries and shallow attempts at wit, betraying their own dignity and intelligence. It makes me sick.

God, I hate those men.
Jack is one of those men.

Yep, Jack Frazier is one of those senselessly handsome men who remain single only so they can keep dating and ruining shit for everyone else. I get to hate him even more than most because I've seen him work his evil magic in real life and have no doubts concerning his intentions.

Jack owns Lovesick, named one of the fastest growing online dating apps to link stalker and stalked. This endless parade of human misery is his doing and he lives everyday of it like it's goddamn Mardi Gras.

Jack is also my younger brother.


Notes novels are short narratives stirred up by chance encounters and saved to my phone.

When you noodle in narrative.

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