With a phone call I was whisked away to Baltimore to do some work for a friend. It happened that I missed a major holiday, upsetting The Devil. Yeah, we stayed together even after the dramatics and meltdowns from what felt like minutes ago.
The trip was a surprise in the sense that I received a call and was tossed on a train. The Devil assured me that he wasn’t mad I was leaving, though I suspected he was lying. Once in Baltimore my friend picked me up and we grabbed some ghetto diner food. It was good, mostly because there is this incredibly cute waiter that I like to stare at. The boy has worked there for two years at least, it’s the only reason I keep going back. We arrived at my friend’s house where we ripped out the living room carpet and tile. Though I would be sore the next day, it was a great way to release some pent up aggression. The Devil called about two in the morning, muttering something I couldn’t understand and saying he would call me back. He had texted me slightly before this to tell me he actually was mad at me for leaving.
I knew it. Turns out he was planning to invite me home for Thanksgiving; this was a definite lie. The week before he had told me that he would never again introduce a guy to his parents. I don’t know if this was supposed to be some mind game, but it wasn’t a smart way to play it if that’s what was going on. The following day we were talking and The Devil mentioned that I cause him stress. It’s really not my intention to be the crazy boyfriend that makes everything hard. I’m not sure what it is about The Devil, but he just makes me jump into this ring of chaos. After he told me this I told him that he didn’t need to stress because I had downgraded us to some sort of “friend” status.
He wanted answers. I finally just said what I was thinking without holding back. I let him in my head because keeping him out was harder than I had anticipated. We are too different to be together, we’re going in different directions, and though I love him it just isn’t enough. I can’t be the guy in waiting while he’s out doing everyone else. His response was, “So I can date?” I replied simply, “You’re free.” I cut it off there. I left the conversation and went for diner, in disbelief that this was his response. I felt like I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I was and disappointed to think we were over. I wish I could say that I felt happy or even relieved, but I didn’t.
Over the next few days there were several comments from The Devil about our situation.
“Why can’t you just be ok with an open relationship? We’ll get back together. I miss you. I love you. I don’t think we’re done.”
Almost all sentiments that I had wanted to hear, now I’m just doing my best to ignore them. When I said goodbye to him the night I ended it, I meant it. That was the end, even if we’re still on good speaking terms. I can’t go back this time knowing that it’s going to end. How many break-ups is this now? I can’t even remember anymore. I always followed the rule: If you break up once, you’ll just keep doing it. This time I’m going to be smart about it and let the miles between us grow.
The Devil sent me a leak to a new song he had mixed. I listened to the track. It was a good song, sad though. That’s when he told me, “That’s yours.” It was similar to having a knife plunged into my chest. I just wanted to say ok let’s get back together, but I couldn’t.