I’ve been craving being untangled from my other half for a while now.
I used to stay awake at night staring at the ceiling, imagining how my apartment might look.
I pictured a dog laying on the bed next to me.
I didn’t picture a man.
Perhaps one from time to time. But nothing consistent.
I dreamed, and hoped. I never thought I’d break free.
But then I did.
I finally did something unforgiveable. Something that couldn’t be taken back. I slept with one of his friends. I destroyed them both in the end. The friend group still hasn’t healed. The two cannot be in the same room together.
But I was free. My life had once again become my own.
Funny how we want something but when we finally get it, we discover it’s not what we wanted at all.
I did get the dog. And she does sleep next to me most nights. But I miss him. I miss wrapping myself up in him. I miss coming home to him. I miss our stupid arguments. I even miss his sarcasm and offhand comments. I didn’t fight. And I should have fought. Like hell. Because we were worth it.
Hindsight, and all that. Trite.
We still see each other on a regular basis. Which I suspect will continue until one of us cries uncle or we collide right back into each other. I know he deserves better.
But I’m writing again… and we all know what that means. Time for another story. And this one might be the most daring adventure I’ve undertaken yet. Will all parties survive?