Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
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I decided to stick with my original excuse for leaving The Devil’s house in a rush a few evenings before. Sticking with the “sick” excuse was good enough for me, plus there was little room for questioning. Sometimes a little white lie is the smartest way to go.
Though we had only been seeing each other a very short time, a routine was already coming together. The Devil would chat online a little; I would read his magazines and point out funny things he had probably already seen. Later we would watch something on his laptop and then we would have a little sex. I thought the sex was good, though I could be wrong. It was suggested that we might need to spice things up. This coming from the man who told me after the first time we were together he had told his friends, “It was beautiful. It just flowed.” Once again with the confusing!
Our evening ended with The Devil telling me that he was telling people I was his boyfriend, then he said he loved me. I never thought I would hear these words again. The first time had been at the end of sex when we were both drunk. I took them for what I felt they meant then and discarded them; knowing for him they were probably nothing more than the drunken words of someone that had just cum. To hear him say it again pulled my heart back into the ring, the one place I didn’t want to see it.
The next two days were perfect. I felt like my personal life was coming into order after having spent three years in all but total chaos. Both nights with The Devil were right on target with our routine, he even suggested I bring cloths to get ready for work so I didn’t have to run home in the morning. I thought of that as a big step for someone who told me he was afraid to commit.
Things happen to me in groups of three. The third night was not as perfect as the two preceding it.
“I’m not ready for commitment. I just want to keep things the way they were, no expectations.”
This I received via instant message. To say I was pissed is about the understatement of my life. I vented my frustrations on The Devil. It was time to pick a side, no more of this one-day you want me and the next day you don’t. Love me, hate me, or go away. I don’t have the energy to bounce back and forth with a part-time boyfriend, full-time playboy.
So, with this fresh batch of jolt in me, I can’t say the walls aren’t growing thicker than ever. I think Fefe Dobson said it best:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s all I can say to you.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m so over you.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, now I’m hurting you.