Whether we admit it or not, we (guys) DO have feelings too. Here is the post-breakup timeline for us.
It appears if I died, no one in the neighborhood I grew up in would notice or care. Conversely, if my dog left the house wearing a new collar, the entire neighborhood would have a conniption.
I slept on the couch last night. I felt like a visitor to my own life. The night before a stranger held me. Tightly I could feel his heartbeat, I dragged my fingers across his chest.
My old room used to be the place where Lisa the landlady tested refrigerators back when she lived there with her ex. I moved out, and although my new place doesn’t have as many electrical outlets, there aren’t any bugs.
The futon is acceptable in college. Sleep doesn’t matter, your back doesn’t matter, it’s all just fun and drinking, and the casual college hook up that isn’t going to anywhere past graduation.
When I made the move to a big city without much in the way of disposable income and a 95 square foot apartment — yes, you read that correctly — you saved me from the brink of self-immolation by giving me loft bed options that maximized the space.