There are such little, tiny, tiny, miniscule things that scream you’re not right for one another.
February 25, 2024
There are such little, tiny, tiny, miniscule things that scream you’re not right for one another.
When things “transitioned to friendship” with David, translation, when I broke up with him because I found out he was lying about loving me, I was pretty laid out flat. It wasn’t him so much, although I did believe I loved him. It was the death of something I really thought might work. Grieving. The pain of it. The tears. The disappointment. But mostly, the betrayal of him having strung me along for months. And months. But, as usual, I can’t blame him. I was right there, begging to be strung along. I do that. I’m always hopeful. (But you know? I kind of like that about me. That’s a good trait. I’ll keep it.)
I made him vegetarian vegetable soup probably a year ago now. Ya, maybe March 2023, when things were good. (In retrospect, were they ever good?) After we broke up last May, probably in June when we were still talking, and he was absolutely obsessed with returning my things, he told me that soup was still in the freezer and he needed to return the plastic container. I will bet you ANYTHING he still has that soup in his freezer.
