Today one of my ex-not-boyfriends got married to the daughter of his cult leader (don’t ask). Sometimes I feel selfish and self-pitying. Sometimes I have cramps and watch a whole season of Supernatural. I see my boyfriend tomorrow, and I think I have a weird bridesmaid dress for Kirby’s wedding. I have the world’s worst canker sore - I get them about once or twice a month - and this one is on the side of my mouth and prevents me from talking or eating or breathing normally. “I’m not going to be able to kiss you as enthusiastically as I’d like,” I texted Nick.” “i still love you. It’s okay,” he said. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. I want a dog. I feel like I say the same thing in every text post: independence, dog, tattoos, apartment, no debt, boyfriend, best friend(s). On a loop. I dream I have a ponytail, sometimes.
Sometimes your ex-not-boyfriend gets married. Once, he told you you both weren’t on the same “spiritual track” and that you couldn’t exchange letters over the summer. He sent you a final text message in June and you didn’t see him until January. Not a word between then. He seemed surprised that you still existed. It didn’t matter that you’d fallen into a depression since then and started dating someone else, with whom you broke up, and then you’d taken up with another not-boyfriend who moved to Italy and none of it mattered, because he couldn’t manifest anymore care for you than what you saw in his eyes. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t see how he’d been manipulated. He was gentle and vulnerable and logical to a fault. He wanted answers and you couldn’t give them, so he left you for something who could. You’re over it.