I told him, “I don’t wanna feel shitty when I leave your house,” because I thought a night of fling would do me good. But boy was I wrong. To which he replied, “Well it’s not like I want you to feel shitty. Jesus!” and he sounded annoyed. Wait a minute, I’m not asking for an apology but to take a statement and to turn it back to yourself into what you want is a talent that only a true narcissist can do. It’s a rotational dance and it requires only one talent; being a selfish son of a bitch. But yes, I thought going to his house would make me feel happy and it did until he asked if I hooked up with anyone while we weren’t together. And we haven’t been together for 3 weeks. Fair question to I ask. I said “No.” He said that he has, with one girl. Hearing that was an ice prick to my chest. Then he proceeded to tell me under what circumstances they met and how she showed up stupid drunk. That ice prick now stuck deeper. The giddy feeling I had of him being my savior is now totally crushed. I had hope for us until that moment. Real hope. Not the fake Hollywood kind but the Til Death Do Us Part kind. Now my body felt stuck and frozen in time. I had my assumptions. I saw it in the tarot cards. But it was painful to hear and more painful to hear it in person. I reminded myself that I knew this and this is not news. I also reminded myself that he’s a free man now. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. We got into bed. We cuddled. We made out. We got naked. I made him cum with my mouth twice. My side of the bed was wet with the amount of saliva that I used to spit on his dick. Yea I’m that bitch. It felt nice to sleep in his arms. Sleeping next to him is easy because he never changes his position. Plus I like looking at his face when the sun hits the windows because his face angles are that perfect. God was in a good mood when he made him. It felt nice to wake up next to him. I convinced myself that maybe doing this once in a while wouldn’t hurt. My alarm rang, I had to run for my therapy appointment. On my way to the bathroom, I saw the table with his condoms and I counted them. I bought them so I know exactly how many were missing.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
I said, “You have some missing,”
“No I dont, there’re all there,”
I didn’t wanna start a fight because I was running late. Seven condoms missing- that was the third ice-prick and this one hurt the most. Who was she? Was she hot? Was she any good? Was it the same chick that showed up drunk? How many are there? I left the place. He walked me to the door and told me he’ll see me soon. My fairy-tale crushed. My self-esteem is in the toilet. I tried hard not to cry in public but I cried when I got home. When I told him he has 7 condoms missing, his reply? They’re in his leather jacket.
Now, I’m obsessed with him. Being 3 weeks apart felt like my whole life was in mourning. I was mourning the pain that went back to childhood that gaping hole inside that comes from a lack of your mother’s love. I felt it more than ever when we were apart til I couldn’t take it anymore and gave in and asked to see him. He said yes. And before he said yes, I was debating if it was a good idea. If it would do me any good and what’s the point. But it would be nice, I thought, not having a clue that exactly the opposite would happen. The night was fun but the morning wasn’t. Because that morning was filled with tears. To make matters worse, the whole day he didn’t even text me. Today and tomorrow are his days off and he didn’t even ask to see me. That means he’s with a girl. How much more spitting in the face do I need? And would you like some extra sauce with that?