I Used to Be an Unpaid Emergency Service (Open 24/7)

 

There was a time in my life when I believed love meant responding to phone calls at 3am.

Not emergencies like:

• “I’m hurt”

• “I need help”

• “Something actually happened”

No.

These were more like:

“I’m drunk, wandering, and making life choices that require supervision.”

I became:

• The taxi

• The therapist

• The crisis hotline

• The moral compass

• The ‘please don’t ruin your life tonight’ department

At one point, I was collecting a fully grown adult who had decided train tracks were a scenic walking route.

At 3am.

Joy lesson (learned late, but learned well):
If someone needs rescuing every weekend, you’re not their partner—you’re their risk management plan.

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The Moment I Retired From Chaos Logistics

One day, something miraculous happened.

I stopped answering.

And shockingly:

• The trains kept running

• The world did not end

• He survived his own decisions

• My nervous system unclenched for the first time in years

Turns out, I was not preventing disaster.

I was just exhausting myself.

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Why This Is Funny Now

Because looking back, it’s absurd.

I was:

• Sleep-deprived

• Over-functioning

• Mistaking anxiety for love

• Running emergency ops for someone committed to chaos

And now?

I sleep.
I laugh.
I don’t chase adults.
I don’t negotiate with nonsense.
I don’t confuse adrenaline with affection.

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Updated Relationship Policy

• I do not date projects

• I do not rescue grown men

• I do not answer chaos calls

• I do not sacrifice joy for “potential”

Joy prefers partners who:

• Stay off train tracks

• Handle their own lives

• Let me sleep

Honestly?
The bar is now underground—and still somehow selective.

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Final Takeaway

If your relationship requires a flashlight, a phone charger, and emotional triage at 3am…

That’s not romance.

That’s volunteer work.

And I’ve officially retired—with benefits, boundaries, and a very well-rested nervous system.