Dirty laundry
Whatdafuck?!!!!?!!!!
I was humiliated and I felt so cheap. Trying to be okay with it all is exhausting. I just wanted to lay down and stay down and not bother anymore.
After all that I’d released the night before, finally admitting my feelings to him and that I was still capable of those feelings at all to myself, and giving into wanting to be with someone again on that level and all that came with it, and to not only have my post-coital after-glow interrupted by a girlfriend knocking on the window but to have to get up and hide like some cheap, desperate, mistress under a sheet in a corner while my heart is beating out of control for fear and disbelief that this shit is actually taking place and that in all my years and all of my relationships I’d NEVER EVER had to deal with this kind of thing, this mess only happens in the movies and she keeps coming into the room and I’m frozen with fear that I’ll be found out and the shame of having to hide is worst than any confrontation that may take place, praying she would just leave and take him with her because I couldn’t face him right now, after all my confessions the night before and the love we made now demoted to cheap sex and I felt sick with my disgust of myself, staying dead still and silent like his dirty laundry. They leave and I still sit there so afraid and shocked I can’t even cry for my broken heart, I am left alone in a dark room in a suddenly cold house in a strange place and told to fend for myself, slipped a key to get out and find my way home. It is overwhelming to say the very least.
How could he hurt me like that? After all these years, after all that we’d shared? For the very least he could have been honest with me. I could use a cigarette. This is why women turn to the bottle or into sluts or to Jesus.