the blog

Grovel a Little

I’d kill for you to show a little remorse, I’m desperate to hear you beg. I can’t take that it was all fake, that I allowed myself to be vulnerable to a man who regarded me as nothing else but a disposable tool. Tell me you fucked up, tell me you’re sorry, tell me you feel sick to your stomach and you don’t understand why you did it. Tell me it was the biggest mistake of your life and that it will never happen again.

How many times, when were sitting together in silence and you disrupted it with an out-loud laugh, were you talking to someone else? How many times did you use my laptop to watch porn or swipe matches on the desktop version of a dating app while I did the breadwinning that fed you and kept you alive? 

The level of disrespect is astounding, worse is how you lied at the end. Do you think I’m stupid? Not deserving of the truth? Did you think you’d continue to get away with it all? To try to control every move that I make so that I do all I do in the service of you while you fuck other people behind my back?

It wouldn’t change my decision. I never looked through your phone or your Google accounts, I never tracked you on Maps when you left, like you did to me. That shit is crazy shit for crazy people and it only hurts everyone involved. Even at the end, I stopped once I’d found the confirmation that I needed. Then you were laying on the floor the last time that we talked and you laughed out loud and my gut clenched with jealousy. I asked who you were talking to, then got up and walked away with my hands on my forehead and said, “This is why I can’t deal with you anymore.” You pretended not to know what you’d done wrong.

There’s an unwritten code for how one should conduct themselves with others while romantically involved. Violations of these unwritten rules are not the norm. If I have to look over your shoulder to ensure you behave, you’re not a person that I want to keep around. Go, by all means, and don’t ever come back.

But grovel a little first, cuz the truth hurts.