Girl, That Was His Customer Service Voice!

He stitched her back together.

That’s what she believed.

That’s what we all believed

when she sang it—pregnant, glowing, voice cracking

as she stood on stage and praised him

for giving her the kind of love her father never did.

Piece by piece, he restored her faith in men.

In fathers.

In staying.

And we cried with her.

Because that’s the kind of healing we all secretly want—

a love so patient and safe

it rewrites the past just by being present.

Only… he wasn’t.

Present, that is.

Not in the long run.

Turned out her piece-by-piece man

was just a gigolo with a jawline—

the kind who doesn’t want to work

as long as you’re working enough for both of you.

She thought she found her forever.

What she actually found

was a man who played the role she needed

long enough to get cast in the movie

but not committed enough to stay through the sequel.

Because that’s the thing:

We don’t always fall for people.

Sometimes we fall for what they fix.

And when someone heals a hole you’ve been bleeding from for decades—

it’s hard not to see them as a savior.

Even when they’re just…

a guy who got lucky with timing and tone.

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He held your pain like it was precious.

Listened harder than anyone ever had.

And one day,

he made you feel heard.

So you made him a legend.

And then he changed.

Or maybe—

he didn’t.

Maybe he was just rested that day.

Maybe he had snacks.

Maybe he listened well that one time

because he was still in the audition phase.

And once he got the part,

he forgot the lines.

And sis?

That wasn’t a soulmate.

That was his customer service voice.

You fell in love with the way he handled your trauma,

not the way he handled responsibility.

You made a whole album about a version of him

that only ever existed in your presence.

And now the song is out there.

A shrine to someone

who was never built to hold you.

You can’t take it back.

It sits in the world now—

for the rest of us to dedicate

to the man who maybe

half listened to us one time.

Because that’s what we do.

We fall for hope-shaped people—

and forget to check if they’re actually real.

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