there was a night, my tattoo explains it, when i cheated on my boyfriend. sort of. we were on a break.he fucked someone on our couch. i gave the couch away as it was too big to set on fire. back to the beginning.
things start to unravel when you find pictures of your boyfriend with a bunch of naked strippers at the strip club his ex works at after you specifically asked him not to go there. the thought of him at any strip club makes you want to douse your head in acid just to distract yourself.
you threaten and then attempt to push him out of your way as you scream scream scream.the neighbors are downstairs, smoking a bowl, elegant eyebrows raised. this is a few years ago, so you did not know the term for them was "hipster" yet.
you and your boyfriend go to applebees, get drunk, hook up, and then decide on the break. suits you just fine. except that you work and live together. so stupid and so young is 22. so you start flirting with this coworker that you love. he is a redhead, and your names rhyme. fate, right? he writes. he is funny. you guys decide to go on a date.
you are so excited! you meet at a local bar. and who is there, as well? your fucking boyfriend. waiting for some chick. he is mad. you are not. the chick looks like a troll, and you look like a playmate, but without the tan or slut gear. your date shows up, you hightail it to a seedy bar. it is so romantic.
you drink beers and play music on the jukebox. some crackhead sells you a rose. you leave only when he overhears some guy plotting to kill some other guy in the bathroom.on to another bar.
he proposes to you with an onion ring, declares himself smitten. he kisses you on the doorstep. your boyfriend does not come home that night.
you end up sleeping with this guy with the rhyming name. he says he loves you. as sweats on top of you, the ceiling seems to open up, revealing storm clouds and warm air. you feel empty and alone and on the verge of some torture. this is not going to end well.
cold harsh daylight finds you trying to navigate away from his apartment. you get lost, feel sick. end up seeing your mom so you can get a cell phone because the one you got from your boyfriend has been canceled. you got through 22 years without it, but now do not remember how.6 years later you think a land line is probably a good idea. you are tired of being so connected to how often your phone does not ring sometimes.
you get home eventually. your boyfriend gets home,too. you are both so tired from not fucking each other. you take a nap, after it is determined that neither of you had sex with anyone else on the bed. the couch, as i said, had to go.
later, you wake up and go to applebees. you get drunk and get back together. the girl he banged understood, maybe, about you. you never know. you don't bother to screen phone calls or anything. you will stay with this guy for another year and a half. you will leave each other and it will be terrible. the stuffing will be knocked from you. you will forget how to fight after. as for the boy with the rhyming name, you will run into him a few times over the years. you will hook up. he is exhausted. a star collapsing in on itself. he will move close by and then stop calling you. it is for the best. you have finally stopped jerking him around. you do this sometimes. keep people within arms length just to push them.
you never see your boyfriend again, but he is your friend on facebook.
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