I hear it all the time, in sitcoms, conversations and comedy bits. They all make reference to "that bitch," the evil chick who broke the poor guys heart.
I never believed it. I always thought it was just an urban legend. I was under the impression that the guy was always the one to break her heart. Why? Because I had the greatest girl in the world, or so I thought.
I lied, I cheated, I hurt her so much, but she always came back. Finally came the straw that broke the camel's back. Turned out I was the camel, not her.
She broke up with me, but she was the one begging for me to come back. That's the kind of girl she was. I didn't deserve her, I never did. I tried to tell her that all the time. But her persistent could only mean one thing, true love.
I never had to do anything special, just be me, and she loved every minute of it. She didn't mind all of my flaws, looked beyond my mistakes, and saw more potential in me than I ever did.
I pushed her away on numerous occasions, but this one finally took. She didn't go without a fight, but when she finally did, I was the one on my knees begging for mercy.
After four years, I should have been on my knees with a ring in my hand, but things never end up the way you expect them to. And unfortunately, people are sometimes the same way.
I have never had my heart broken, let alone the slow and painful way. I suppose I've been asking for it all along.
Just when you think you've got something all figured out...
Love is a bitch.