The truth is there ain’t no relationship in the world that doesn’t hit turbulence.
Even if you admit that she’s you heart, your everything. You cheat on her like the fucking cheating liar you really are.
When your girlfriend finds out that you boned someone else, it’s like a grenade. It detonates everything – past, present and future.
You try every trick in the book to keep her. You write her letters. And every hour like clockwork you say that you’re so sorry. You try it all, But one day she will simply sit up in bed and say, No more.
For awhile, you hunt the city. You phone her everyday and leave messages which she doesn’t answer. You write her long, sensitive letters, which she returned unopened. You even show up at her apartment at odd hours and at her job. You never see her again.
At first, you pretend it don’t matter. For a few weeks, you almost believe it. You run around around with the sluts like it’s the good old days, like nothing has happened. You’re feeling terribly guilty and terribly alone. You keep writing letters to her, waiting for the day that you can hand them to her. You also keep fucking everything that moves.
You end up being alone during holidays with no food, not with anyone. The ex, as you’re now calling her always cooked and set aside all the wings for you. You figure that’s as bad as it gets. A depression rolls over you, so profound you doubt there is a name for it. It feels like you’re being slowly pincered apart, atom by atom.
You stop doing almost everything. You try to describe it. Like someone flew a plane into your soul. Like someone flew two planes into your soul. Your little letters become more and more pathetic. ‘Please, please come back’.
You put all away the old pictures of her. No one will ever be like her. But you find yourself a girl anyway.
You want to turn over a new leaf. Takes you a bit – but you finally break clear and when you do, you feel lighter. You finally go on dates.
You get numbers but nothing you would take home to the family. You’re out all the time but no one seems to be biting. ”I think I need a break from the bitches”.
You take your break. You try to get back to your work. You start three novels. You get serious about your classes and you take up running. Every time you think about your EX, every time the loneliness rears up in you like seething, you tie on your shoes and run.
Out of nowhere, you call the ex, but of course she doesn’t pick you up. The fact that she doesn’t change her number gives you some strange hope.
You start doing push-ups and pull-ups and even some Yoga. You start having dinner with a couple of girls. You eventually erase her contact info from your phone but not the pictures of her in bed while she was naked and asleep.
Of course you dream about her. You want her to say your name, to touch you, but she doesn’t.
You want to move on. You work harder than you’ve ever worked at everything. You keep waiting for the heaviness to leave you. You keep waiting for the moment you never think about the EX again. It doesn’t come.
There are surprises and there are surprises and then there is this. You didn’t think anything could hurt so bad. You are surprised at what a fucking chickenshit coward you are. It kills you to admit it but it’s true. How long does it usually take to get over it?
The day you decide it;s over, it’s over. You never get over it.
Our relationship wasn’t the sun, the moon and the stars, but it wasn’t bullshit either. A start is all we ever get.