WARNING: the following is satire.

We had a quiet night in Jerusalem.

Which, frankly, felt suspicious.

So obviously I spiraled.

I stayed up late waiting for Iran to text.

By “text,” I mean reach out and send missiles.

My body was coiled like a spring. I didn’t want to fall asleep and get jolted awake by sirens — so like any emotionally regulated adult woman with secure attachment, I lay in bed refreshing Home Front Command and The Times of Israel every 12 seconds.

Totally normal behavior.

This feels exactly like waiting for a toxic situationship to reach out.

Why hasn’t Iran written since this afternoon???

I mean — we spent last night together.

Very intense. Lots of noise. Big energy.

I heard he’s talking to Cyprus now.

For years he was obsessed with me.

Constant threats. Grand gestures. Fireworks.

And now that I’m emotionally invested?

Absolute avoidant narcissist with regional ambitions.

Honestly, it’s giving: “Don’t make me your whole personality, Jerusalem.”

Whatever. I know my worth.

Jerusalem doesn’t chase.

We survived Babylonians, Romans, Crusaders, Ottomans, the British, and municipal parking enforcement.

We can survive being left on read.

And now he’s love-bombing me again.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)