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"Touch Me in the Morning..."

I don't know what happened, but somewhere between the "screw you, bitch" and him responding negatively to my question, "Do you know what you're apologizing for," my love died. Not a screaming, crying, whimpering death. More of a quiet, "you know what you have to do" type death. The kind that comes after the pain has settled in and made a home in your heart.

The way I see it, there's a window after a major infraction where you can make things right. You can say, "Baby, I didn't mean what I said. I was drunk/high/frustrated with my life/etc. and took it out on you, and I was wrong. Please forgive me." At that point, even if you make someone suffer a few more minutes/hours/etc., you know that you'll be able to move on from the situation none the worse for wear.

And then there's what my foolish-ass boyfriend did.

After saying, "Screw you, bitch," and hanging up, he didn't even try to call back. When he did -- a few HOURS later -- he tried to act like nothing had happened. In fact, it wasn't until I had gone a day without speaking to him that he even tried to acknowledge that something had shifted. The voicemail message said, "I got nothing. Call me when you want to talk."





Seriously? That's all you got, sir? I was completely done. Then, half an hour later, I get this...


Uh, do you HONESTLY think that a "I love you" is a "Get Out of Jail Free" card? That's what it feels like to me at this point. And you KNOW I'm not having it.

And furthermore, you'll see that I didn't acknowledge the "screw you" part. Honestly, that's because it took me a few more days to process that. It's almost like your mind can't handle too much trauma at once, so it shields you from it until you're strong enough.

When it finally came together in my head a few days later, I just had to marvel at the blatantness of what went on here. So...you're just gonna cuss me out, hang up on me, and expect everything to be hunky AND dory. I'm not supposed to feel anything in light of what you said. And your "love" is supposed to be the salve that makes it right? HA! In the immortal words of that great southern philosopher named Beyoncé, "You must not know 'bout me."

Stay tuned...

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