🌮 Texts I Regret and Tacos I Don’t: A Modern Love Story 📱
Let me set the scene: It was Tuesday night, a sacred day we all know as Taco Tuesday. I was emotionally vulnerable, mildly hungry, and dangerously close to texting my ex. A triple threat.
I had just ordered three al pastor tacos, extra cilantro, and a side of emotional damage when my phone lit up. The culprit? My ex, Ryan, liking my Instagram story where I was clearly thriving (read: smiling with a filter and a margarita).
Fueled by salsa and poor decision-making, I texted him:
“Hope you’re doing okay. You ever miss us… or just the tacos?”
Instant regret. That message had more red flags than a carnival.
He replied with, “Haha… the tacos were good.”
Just like that, my dignity curled up like a soft tortilla.
Trying to recover, I sent:
“Same. I think about the tacos a lot. You? Not so much. 😂”
Damage control. Or at least, damage deflection.
Meanwhile, the tacos arrived. And let me tell you—these tacos didn’t ghost me, or gaslight me, or hit me with “u up?” at 2AM. No, they showed up warm, crispy, and emotionally available.
Mid-bite, I had an epiphany—tacos don’t play games. Tacos don’t ask for space and then show up in your DMs three months later with a “Hey stranger.” Tacos are consistent. They don’t breadcrumb you or double-tap your trauma post with a heart emoji.
So, I did the healthiest thing I’ve done all year. I blocked Ryan, posted a taco appreciation story, and captioned it:
“Some loves are forever. 🌮❤️ #TacoLoyalty”
As I wiped hot sauce off my chin, I realized this was a real love story. Not the one I texted. But the one I tasted.
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