Loving you felt awful because I was reminded every second of how much it wasn’t reciprocated. The more affection I showed you, the bigger the divide in our bed would be. People tell me that there always has to be someone who’s loved less in a relationship and, if that’s true, I’m starting to wonder if that person will always be me.
I was 19 and tender. I’d just moved back to Orange County after a six-month stint in New York City, freshly broken up from my first girlfriend, who was six years older than me. We “clicked.” We could sit next to each other, mute and comfortable, for hours. We had amazing sex. But she had a career to start. I had freshmen orientation.
So my ex is over. At my house. For the first time since the first time after a long time. Only three days after the first time after a long time. We shouldn’t be here really. I’m making tea and telling him about how I have a blog now. He’s calling at me from the lounge. His new job pays less but it’s fewer hours and he’s actually really connecting with the kids.