I'm Not Sorry I Met You, I'm Not Sorry It's Over, I'm Not Sorry There's Nothing To Say

E. called me. On Halloween. I just haven’t been able to find a way to write about it until now. He calls every 12 or 18 months. We broke up five and a half years ago, but he never let the wound close. And even now he hangs around to make sure that just as the scar begins to fade, he’ll make another jab to make sure it lasts. To make sure he lasts. To make sure he’s not forgotten.

E. hurt me in ways I can’t describe. I fell so far in love with him and then he lied to me and hurt me and never really seemed to care. But he could never let me go. He’d promise to meet me so we could talk and then stand me up. He’d call and provoke me, hang up, let me leave a hysterical message, and then play it on speakerphone for his friends. He’d buy a ticket to a show I was in and then not attend. And he’s been calling ever since to tell me that he misses me and that he wishes we could talk more. I don’t know why I answer. But I always do.

I heard this song on Tuesday and it hit me like a cannonball to the gut. It describes this situation so much better than I can.