I’ve gotten to know you by your own curious actions.
It’s been four months since you and I first interacted on that January night where minutes after engaging with you, my account got quickly suspended and you then, oddly, raced to delete your part of our conversation.
And it was during that very conversation, Hayden Clarkin, where you had asked me for coffee, not the other way around. What a curious game now to claim it was my idea: it was yours.
And I emailed you back in April, a month ago, and subsequently wrote this post about you because you had tweeted about me and then deleted it.
I was curious, Hayden: that’s why I wrote my email to you and then my post about you. Curiosity.
And you keep mentioning me. You won’t email me back but you keep bringing me up on social media.
So I remain curious: I wonder if my curiosity is too much for you to understand as you’d rather talk, safely and comfortably, to your followers, rather than to me directly.
And sure, absolutely: no one in yimby circles has ever heard of me; I remain completely inconsequential to all of them, all of you, and I bet to everyone else in the world at large.
So, again, highly weird flex for you to then keep bringing me up. (“Hey, who ~*is*~ that nobody?!?!?!?😤🍼😫”)
But, then again, those are your actions.
I mean, unless you end up deleting your tweets (or your whole timeline, ooops! I mean, why *do* people keep picking on you?).
But deleting tweets is yet another action, isn’t it? Another curious action.
I know now you would never meet me for coffee: you never meant your offer back in January.
You never responded to my email. You’ll talk about me publicly, for attention, but you won’t speak to me directly.
That’s who you are.
Your actions show who you are.
Your dishonesty shows who you are.
Again, I have gotten to know you by your own very curious actions: we all have.
We’ve witnessed you deleting hundreds of tweets.
Especially after you get called out.
We saw you then delete your entire timeline.
You even made your own website private for a few weeks, highly odd.
But I guess it’s a bad look to be caught whining about expiring covid rent specials in Long Island City luxury glass towers when one is founding chief executive officer of one’s own profitable nonprofit.
That’ll rattle someone into professional website privacy and a tweet delete fest, amirite?
But, curiously enough, my public website still provides link access to your 25-page portfolio and your nonprofit-CEO resume.
I mean, just in case anyone else remains curious about you.
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