I think I just broke up with this guy I am in “sort of” a relationship with. Well, technically, its not called a break up cause we aren’t together. You can call me “the other woman”. Its just that he has his own girlfriend and we just sort of a been spending stolen times together as more than friends…again.
Enfolding as a master reprobate, I am not in the mood for conscience over beer and coffee. The fact of the matter is that it is over. It is done. It will never happen again. All the evening soirées are for the memories to bite and swallow.
But do you want to know why I did it? Why I settled for being the other woman instead of being the woman? Because it hurts to just even admit to myself that I am the other woman when I was the only woman back in time immemorial.
But the hard part, of course, is that until someone comes up to me to shake me into reason (believe me, alot have tried this in vain), to dig me out of a hole I probably feel like I want to be buried in, I don’t really understand the logic of it. But it’s there. The probability of misinterpretation is staggering. One side just wants to be loved, the other side probably just wishes it had never happened. But, I know, everyone wakes up sober the next day anyway, and no matter how hard I pretend, I always remember what happened the night before. I know, in the pit of your stomach, if it’s something. And when you know it’s nothing, it’s not worth it to try to vomit up air.
Because, I know, sh*t happens to everybody. And it sure sucks, but sometimes things just aren’t what they seem. It’s nice to have a little crush not an explicit affair, it’s probably healthy for everyone. But sometimes that’s all that it can be. And it may not be much, but it’ll spare you the drinking binges, the crying, the embarrassing texts. And you’ll have this sort of pristine memory. Which, dammit, sounds boring as hell.
So I guess what I’m tring to say is, go ahead! Make an ass out of yourself! Learn from it! And learn when not to do it. Because if we never make asses out of ourselves at least once in our lives, then we’ll never learn to wipe our own sh*t.