Nothing is worse than finding your partner interested in someone else person except for finding them in bed with another. It happened to me. It was about thirty years ago and we were in the early start of a college relationship when I just dropped by his apartment …the door open so I walked in. Literally- to him in the sack with some girl who wouldn’t come out from under the blankets. He jumped up and his skinny naked ass tried to follow me out the door as I fled. I only remember the incredible beating of my own heart. He was going off to grad school and I ignored his calls for the next few weeks. I never spoke to him again, ripped up his letters and actually sent them in sheds back to his grad dorm in Chicago. I was crushed, doing what most people do – cried and played songs that made me cry more. I wrote poetry ’’You’re the band aid seeped in the blood of a scab, stuck on my flesh, should I rip you off or let you peel away with time?”
It got better, obviously, and I gave up on the poetry thing. It was some twenty years later and guess what happened? He finds me on Facebook. I see his name in the message. It summoned up the word asshole. Yes, I hated his name. If I met you and your name was Philip, you were doomed. I was always thankful it was not a common name. His opening words were a combination of how I had not changed a bit in all those years and his wife was aware he was writing to me. He wanted to apologize! He wrote:
