Goodbye, My Lover

He wrote his goodbye note not on my arm, but on the mirror of the room, wasting my good lipstick on his petty mindless words. I was crushed but I would survive. It's not like I loved him or anything... right?

I met him in a club. He told; "This ain't a scene darling, pack your things and lets get moving." In his cheesy, corny way. He swaggered easily, strutting his stuff in front of me; knowing the whole room was watching him and he LOVED it.

Obviously he was a natural at picking girls up and I wasn't about to let him take me in. But there was something about him, something in the way he was so confident that drew me to him like a moth to a flame. I knew, I was going to be burnt tonight.

He took me to that dark hotel room, showing off for me and as much as I hated to admit it, I LOVED IT. He was amazing, all night we spent together and the next morning he took my number and paid for the room and breakfast.

I tried so hard to resist his charms but that was it, I crushed on him. But I told myself, it was a crush and a crush only. I couldn't deal with losing my independance to anyone.

As I walked away, I was sure that was the last I'd see of him, ever but the next day he called and invited me for dinner. We talked for a while and we prepared for our first 'proper' date. The butterflies beat my stomach endlessly and my heart decided to become best friends with my throat but again, it was perfect and he was perfect.

The rest may as well be history; as they say.

We dated a while, we even talked about moving in, whose apartment would we use, who would be essentially losing out.

Sure we had highs and lows, but in the end we were stronger for them and it felt real.

Until he had to leave me.

"Stupid bitch." I cursed myself out as I read the stupid note.

'Darling, this was amazing. see you later x'

That's what all these months resulted in. A 12 letter see you.

It led me to ask myself the biggest question, what was I to him? The scariest part was I had let him in. Why did I believe I could trust him? My mother was going to LOVE this one when I told her.

"Boys like him only bring you grief." She had warned me countless times.

"No mom, this is it. He's the one and he thinks I'M the one..." I repeated over to her every time, even so many times she had become so accustomed to the words she could say them before I spoke them.

'Boys like him'

What were boys like him?

Were they liars? Cheats? Slags? Did they make habits of picking up women in bars and using them, pretending they loved them until someone better came along? Did a tiny bit of commitment scare them away? Was it something I did?

Endless question's plagued me and drove me mad.

Could I have been better? Why didn't I see it coming?

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?

The door to my apartment swung open as I cried on the kitchen floor. Slumped in my own sadness.

"Baby what's happened?!" I heard his voice calling out, rushing to my side with a plastic bag from the local supermarket in his hand. "Baby, talk to me." He said looking deep into my eyes.

"Why have you come back?" I sobbed, not daring to look back at him.

"To make breakfast obviously. Why darling?" He asked confused.

"Oh Pete."I sobbed harder. "I thought you had left me."

He looked upset.

"No darling, never."