He mentioned in passing that the other girlfriend moved in with him. He seemed to skim over this giant life event as if it were nothing. I attempted to back him up but he didn’t seem to want to give details. One day she wasn’t there and the next she was sharing his home. It happened much like the first girl. One minute she was 10 hours away and the next she was living with him. So the three of them are together, I guess.
I have no right to feel one way or the other. I’m his ex girlfriend. Except I can’t escape these emotions anymore that I can escape my ex girlfriend status.
When my ex husband and I got into the fight that was the beginning of the end, he said something that stuck in my head. The villain doesn’t get to cry. I tried not to cry. I’m the villain in this story.
When Sir said that she moved in, I said wait what when did this happen why didn’t you tell me…. And I caught myself.
My throat tightened with tears as I tried to fake a calm indifference. He doesn’t owe me an explanation. Later as I play scenarios of kink and threesomes, dinner and cuddles, orders and private jokes, I let the tears fall freely.I’m the villain. I try to remember. I wish I were the one that could make him happy. I miss him desperately.
I take my clothes off and climb in the bed waiting for my brain to stop playing scene after scene of perfect breasts and blowjobs. I need a distraction and I toss and turn.
I try for a repetitive motion but laugh at myself because he is so good at calming me and I’m such a poor substitute. My fingertips glide over the mattress pattern….
I’ve never slept in this bed before. It’s my brother’s bed. It’s soft and firm and massive. I wonder how much it cost. I wonder if my brother laid awake in bed, in love and pain, waiting for the comfort of sleep, like me. Did my brother make love to his wife in this bed? Did he lull his children to sleep, have fascinating conversations, stay up all night just because the company was better than sleep? Was he sick in this bed? Did he detox laying where I am? Did he shoot up here? The mattress smells of cigarette smoke and fabric softener.
I lay here, alone in my brother’s bed, tossing, turning, and staring into the void of darkness. I can’t help but think about my Sir, in his bed, tangled between women offering carnal pleasures night after night.
Sleep is a long way off as my brain shows me again and again that I wasn’t a good enough sister or sub. Sleep won’t come this night or the next.