Your New Boyfriend Wears Girl Pants

You just told me the truth.
You confessed you weren’t alone. Even when you told me you were.

But you were with him. You weren’t alone.

And as I’m standing here – in the middle of our living room, in the middle of our house – and stare at you, it hits me.
All the times you’ve been nagging about me not doing the dishes or not cleaning up after myself or not washing our clothes or sheets or cleaning the fucking bathroom – they were fucking nothing.
All the times you’ve bitched about me not talking about my feelings or not taking an interest in your work or life or feelings, when I did nothing but – they’re all fucking nothing.
All the times you told me I wasn’t putting enough of an effort into this relationship. All the times you told me I didn’t do enough for you. All the times you told me I didn’t give you any gifts.
They all mean nothing.
‘Cause all of my mistakes – big or little – could never add up to the only one that you just made.
Because your mistake had nothing to do with me.
Your mistake wasn’t about me. It was about you – only you.
You cheated. You stuck your dick somewhere where it shouldn’t have been. You made the mistake.
But in the end, it affected me. It hurt me. It tore me apart.

And now my head is throbbing – because of you. This is your fault. Nothing but yours.
And don’t try and blame it on me! Don’t you dare try and turn the tables and tell me that I forced this upon myself. Don’t you dare say that it was me who pushed you away.
‘Cause I did nothing but love you! But loving you is apparently not enough for you. You need more. You need me to show it – not in my eyes, but in my actions. You need me to touch you the right way, and not just look at you. You need me to caress you the perfect way, and not just enjoy your gorgeous, untouched skin.
Nothing has ever been enough.
You always needed me to hold your hand in public, even though I hated public show of affection. Why couldn’t we just keep it between us? Why did the whole world need to know how much I loved you?
And that is my biggest headache – the fact that I seemed to be nothing but a trophy to you. I was nothing but a tool for you to show off and use to provoke the rest of the world with. You hated the people who didn’t approve, but you loved annoying them. Perhaps more than you ever loved just holding my hand.
But now – now you’ve given me a headache that tops that one. All of my headaches will never compare to the biggest one that you just gave to me.

I rub my temples before I look up into your eyes.
You don’t even seem to regret it. You’ve cut the deepest wound in my heart, and you’re not even sorry.
And neither am I.
I’m just as cold as you, when I ask for my spare-key back.
But then you change. You’re no longer cold.
But I don’t change. I stay cold.

You meant the world to me, but I only meant the turning heads of the world to you.

And in the end, I remember all the little mistakes I’ve made, and how each time I thought I’d be the one to blame for this relationship falling apart.