I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still coping with my break-up. It was about six months ago, but somehow it feels a lot shorter. Every day I think about her, and how comforting it was to always have someone to talk to who actually gave a shit what I had to say.
Three days after we broke up, I had sex with another girl. Not long after that, I had sex with her best friend. I knew it was stupid, and I had made a similar, not as serious, mistake with this same “best friend” of a girl I used to date. Two weeks after we broke up, I had had sex with about four to five other women. Three weeks after we broke up, she confessed to having some feelings for a guy that I had introduced her to, in trying to get her to stop trying to get me to get back with her. That same day, she told me she planned on having sex with him because he had a big dick.
Three more weeks, and the women stopped coming, and the parties were over, and the money was gone and I was completely alone, thinking about the girl who had cried, begged and pleaded for me to stay. What more can you ask from a woman before she really moves on? She tells me she can't see me the way she used to and that she has strong feelings for the new guy I introduced her to. He still isn't over his ex, but she initially was keeping him around for the sex. She says it's more than that now and that I wouldn't understand. No one does.
She had replaced me. In three weeks she found- no I found her a guy who she felt was an adequate enough replacement for a guy who she had been in love with for over two years. It didn't matter to me when he was just a guy she was fucking, but when I found out she had feelings for him, my world came crashing down around me. It was over. I was no longer anyone's Number One. Her heart was elsewhere.
In Three weeks.
Nine weeks after we break-up, we were no longer talking. I was- am, angry about the situation. About my ridiculous mistake, about her replacing me, about the only female friend I had in the world taking her side and befriending her over me. I vow to myself I wouldn't go to any of her social networking sites for fear that I would see how happy she was with her new guy friend who was in the same area code ALL the time instead of two weeks a year. The one with the big dick.
Twelve weeks after we broke up, I break my vow and venture on to one of her pages. There, the first thing I see is a sentence about how well she was just fucked and a picture of her and him cuddled together. It felt like blowing dust out of a cup. It goes straight in your eyes, and you instantly realize how obvious that outcome should have been. But instead of dust, it was more like hot volcanic ash.
Three weeks later, I reenlist in the Army for three more years to go to Central America.
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