Out of the blue, my ex-boyfriend decides to text me. It seems innocent enough on the surface, just a simple hello and hope you’re doing well. But the unspoken effects of this simple communication are massive.
I’ve been doing really well without you, thank you for asking. That is, as long as you stay out of my life completely I can mourn us, heal and move on. If I can pretend you don’t care at all I can make myself not care either. But the more you contact me during this period, the more you have a hold on me. You know this, it’s the every-once-in-awhile, out of the blue hellos that keep me stuck. A lab rat in a cage, pressing the lever continuously, waiting for my intermittently given reward.
So after days of resisting the urge to respond, I finally hit a week day. Not only do I respond, but for some reason, I call you. And as can be expected, it is a dumb decision. Instantly, I remember all the reasons I loved you. And simultaneously, all the reasons I hated you.
I press the lever and you reward me. Love. You were so caring, you were genuinely concerned about how I’ve been and all my stories.
I press the lever and you shock me. Hate. You told me about your new girlfriend of 3 weeks.
I press the lever and you pet me. Love. You told me you broke up with her because she wasn’t right for you and how you missed me.
I press the lever and you kill me. Hate. You told me stories about her vagina.
I feel sick to my stomach, and confused. Love. Hate. Love. Hate. They are so different yet so the same. And because I am stuck in the hate for you I cannot move on from the love for you. Maybe this is why you tell me stories so I can hate you, so that I can still love you. And if I still love you, I can never ever move on.