Sundays in London: Or, How I Accidentally Dated a Logistics Problem

 

There was a period of my life where every Sunday afternoon followed the same thrilling format:

He’d go back to London.
And apparently… outsource intimacy.

Like clockwork.

Not emotional intimacy. Not connection.
Just services, booked with the dedication of someone scheduling a recurring calendar event.

Same day. Same pattern. Same secrecy.

Joy lesson loading… but not yet.

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The Burner Phone Reveal (Because of Course There Was One)

At some point, I discovered he had a second phone.

Not for work.
Not for privacy.
Not for emergencies.

No—this was a burner phone, exclusively dedicated to:

• Calling women whose job description involved “comfort”

• Avoiding accountability

• Maintaining the illusion of innocence

Nothing says “emotionally unavailable” like a man with a secret device and a standing Sunday appointment.

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My Role at the Time: Olympic-Level Denial

Let me be clear:
I was not stupid.
I was optimistic with a high tolerance for nonsense.

I told myself things like:

• “At least he’s honest now”

• “Everyone has needs”

• “This is complicated”

• “I can handle it”

Reader: I could not.

Joy lesson:
If someone needs a burner phone to meet their needs, you are not in a relationship—you are in a cover story.

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The Moment It Became Funny (In Hindsight)

What gets me now isn’t the behavior.

It’s the admin.

The planning.
The secrecy.
The mental gymnastics.
The commitment to chaos.

All that effort, when the real solution was simply:

“Be single.”

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Why I’m Laughing Now

Because today:

• I don’t share space with double lives

• I don’t compete with phones

• I don’t explain why basic loyalty matters

• I don’t negotiate intimacy like it’s a subscription service

I sleep well.
I laugh easily.
I trust my instincts.
I do not date men with backup hardware.

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Updated Policy (Non-Negotiable)

• If you need secrecy, you need singleness

• If you need a burner phone, you need therapy

• If your Sundays involve deception, mine involve peace

Joy thrives in simplicity.

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Final Takeaway

If someone’s love life requires:

• A second phone

• A recurring schedule

• And plausible deniability

That’s not romance.

That’s customer service with emotional fallout.

And I officially canceled the contract.