He's Just Not That Into You

By Ciara Ní É

The story could start like a proper romance,
Where you meet at a ball, you have a dance,
Or the story could start in the modern manner
Where you meet at a club, both absolutely langered,
Or maybe in a gaff for your friend’s birthday,
Ye said you’d drop in for an hour but decided to stay
Coz when you went to the kitchen for a glass for your drink
You nearly melted at the man standing by the sink.

So the story kinda starts like a proper romance.
With electric sexuality from first glance,
Of all the people that you meet, it’s definitely rare
To set eyes on someone and feel instantly ensnared.
You smile at him but you feel unprepared,
Coz when you woke up this morning what you chose to wear,
Was a raggy pair of jeans, and an old t-shirt,
a raggy pair of jeans, and an old t-shirt,
Sure why would you bother getting dressed up for work?
So though he looks like a dream, this feels like a mare,
Coz you’ve no makeup on, haven’t done your hair,
But despite the raggy pair of jeans, and old t-shirt,
the raggy pair of jeans and old t-shirt,
you decide to make it work and go over and flirt.

So it turns out he’s sound, you hang around all night,
And you start to feel warm and fuzzy inside,
And not just from the pints of cider you’ve imbibed.
Now it’s not like you’re thinking of being a bride,
I mean you don’t even usually bat for his side,
But you feel your mind start to fantasise
that someday you and he might...
get a coffee.

Eventually you two do kiss,
enjoy a few moments on each other’s lips,
And you’re thinking that a lifetime on his hips
wouldn’t be time badly spent.

Now, you’re actively not looking for a relationship
Coz you’re far too terrified to commit,
And sure you’re still too young, and fuck that shit,
But still… before you leave... you give him your digits.

Now as we all know,
waiting for a text to come your way,
is a fast track channel to going insane,
willing your screen to light up with his name,
wondering whether he’s playing games.

After day three you know what the truth is,
But it seemed kinda real so you make up excuses.
He’s not much of a texter — his phone broke,
He’s busy with work — he might have had a stroke.
Searching for a reason, and denying the truth,
He’s just not that into you.

You want to text him first but the girls say no
you’ve got to consider the male ego,
But one night in the pub after you’ve had a few,
You send the kind of text he could not misconstrue.
When he doesn’t reply he’s not playing cool.
He’s just not that into you.

Then he adds you on Facebook, and you think it’s a sign
that you both had wrong numbers this entire time,
He’s been texting you daily, getting no reply,
So you accept the request and wait for him to say hi.
… But he doesn’t.

Not long after that he likes one of your pics,
And you’re wondering whether he is actually a thick,
Or just a malicious mind-fucking dick.
Once again you’re ignoring the obvious truth,
He’s just not that into you.

It’s not that hard to send a text,
But you say sure maybe he’s still getting over his ex,
Or maybe he is really religious and can’t have sex but
Knew that if he spent time with a goddess like you he would be too tempted.
Yeah, you’re ready to think of any excuse.
He’s just not that into you.

So you call him a dickhead, an eejit, a fool,
Claim that parts of him are miniscule,
But you won’t ever know that to be false or true
coz, there isn’t going to be a rendez-vous
He’s just not that into you.


*Selected for the 2022 ZEBRA Poetry Film Festival*

Directed by Matthew Thompson.

Reproduced by kind permission of the author.