It’s actually perfect timing. What better time to get your heart broken than when you’re on Percocet?
Spoiler alert… it doesn’t even dull the ache.
I don’t know what’s worse. Being so wrong about someone I’ve known for so long and felt so safe with… or just feeling so damn unwanted when I’m not sure how much more I could possibly have to offer, short of earning a Pulitzer.
Someone once said to me: “Accept no crews advances, when you deserve only a Captain.”
Spoiler Alert #2, They don’t exist.
I’m a bit of a six year old today. The one that found the wrappers from the candy left by Santa in her mama’s trash.
Santa isn’t real, the Easter Bunny was a lie and good men don’t exist. I’m 42 and devastated beyond what that 6 year old can comprehend. I’m facing the worst kind of big girl consequences from breaking long-held rules I knew would come back to hurt me.
Comforted by physical pain and breathing through ugly words instead of typing them. Realizing that when I really love someone, I wrap them in silence first. Being desperately hurt doesn’t entitle me to be a weapon, regardless of the endless motivation his insensitivity provides.
He doesn’t care.
He never did.
He never will.
I’m laying in a sea of ice packs, opioids and boredom, when his back-to-the-friendzone text comes rolling in. My heart starts racing, the monitor starts beeping and hot tears start rolling down my heartbroken cheeks. I was poised for the perfect day and now this. I’ve been fucking him for 5 months and it’s the first time in my life I understood why people pay for sex.
There aren’t words to describe how sad, disrespected or devastated I am.
But I’ve faced worse, handled harder and beaten it all.
I’ll do it again tomorrow. It’s just awfully disappointing.
Also, my boobs look amazing and looking good is the best revenge.