The Love Of My Life Cheated On Me

I stayed for a full year after.

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I’d had the most perfect morning.

I’d woken up at the crack of dawn, played Football (Soccer for my American friends), and had my favorite breakfast.

It was a Sunday and since I didn’t have to be at work, I sat down at my desk to write an article. That’s when I got the call.

It was the kind of call where you instantly knew something was wrong. I had a gut feeling about what she was going to say. I just knew.

We’d been together for 2.5 years at the time. She was my best friend and the love of my life.

She’d been to a party the previous night. I hated parties.

I’ve done too much degenerate shit in my time to turn a blind eye to what can happen when you mix alcohol, music, and inhibited emotions.

But I never wanted to be “that controlling boyfriend” so I’d let it be for the most part.

Now and then, she’d get wasted and party with her friends. I bit my lip every time and was a ball of anxiety.

Look, I’m not a saint. I’ve done some fucked up shit. But that’s why I know how many relationships and friendships are destroyed at loud, crowded clubs.