Your ex lover is gay.
“Your Ex?”
They’ll ask.
“I always thought he was gay.”
When you met freshman year, he was the broad shouldered brunette from the end of the hallway. His hair fell coyly on his forhead. His teeth sparkled with an ineffable charm. You’ll bet he glows in the dark- if only you could get him alone.
A week later he’s in the laundry room. His clothes brush yours. You smile.
“Hey you’re the girl from 306”
“Yeah. See you around”
And you leave without a word. Until you get to your dorm and stay up past 3a.m. retelling the story to your roommates. Every word- because you remember it. And you’ll all giggle, when you google his name. A high school playbill mention, a science award in 3rd grade, an abandoned Photobucket account with pictures from a dance in 2005 “xOLilSwEeTiexX” posted. Standard. Adorable. Intriguing.
You’ll remember the chase. The chase that lead to an unsatisfying, abusive, and frustrating relationship. You’ll remember you were never happy. You’ll remember you were always alone.
“You dated him?”
They’ll ask. You’ll laugh.
“Yep. That happened.”
-
raeb liked this
-
konfusionwithak liked this
-
mayosjustanickname liked this
-
thelocococo posted this
