You'd think that I was talking about skin colour, right? Well, you're wrong as hell.
Mister Black texted me on Sunday (while I was busy getting angry at Mister Yellow). He told me that he found my disc golf frisbees, and was willing to return them to me if I agreed to listen to him for a few hours. The discs felt like excuses, to be honest. He could have just left them in my mail box.
Mister Black drove 500 miles to see me. What the fuck is wrong with him? I confronted him about it. He said that he wanted to show me that he cares for me, that he can make an effort. That he still feels deeply for me, and wanted me to see that. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Speechless. Again. I hate when that happens.
He talked for three hours. I had absolutely nothing to say to him. I just sat there, listening, crying. The sleeves of my dinosaur sweatshirt were soaked with tears. He was sincerely sorry for all the shit he put me through. He didn't ask for a second chance, he just wanted to take a walk with me some day. And if that went ok, maybe do stuff that we had planned to do.
I met him a few times, really enjoyed my time with him. We had fun together, shared many laughs and happy moments. We agreed to keep things a secret from our mutual friends, just in case things don't work out.
Something strange happened. I turned my girlfriend mode on, wanted to stop seeing my Misters. Mister Black told me that I shouldn't do it, he doesn't want to be treated any differently than all my other guys. "You sure?" I asked. He said yes, but my feelings for him are much deeper than some random Mister. I dumped every single colourful guy, every Mister, just to be with my Mister Black. I'm such an idiot.
Well, shit hit the fan. I found myself feeling the same way I did before I was miserable. I wanted to turn back time, maybe a year or so, to the happiest summer I've ever experienced. That lasted for a week.
During the week we had the most stupid fights I can imagine. He installed Tinder, just to see what all the fuss was about. He didn't tell me about it, I found out myself. Wednesday morning, I saw his phone light up with a few push messages from Tinder. I wasn't jealous, I had no reason to be. I simply said "Oh, you have Tinder? Good for you, I hope you find what you're looking for" and started World War III. He became all weird and accused me of sleeping with all kinds of guys (he was right, but he had no right to be angry at me). He left my home slamming doors - I guess my reaction wasn't exactly what he was hoping for. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to be the jealous girlfriend, although we weren't even dating? I didn't get it. The next few days were rough. He was seeking for attention, I didn't give it to him.
Weekend came. I made plans to be with Mister Black. He did a no-show. Twice.
That was it. I can't believe that he slipped back to being the shitty person that he is in a week. I won't give him any third chances, we all know that he's a terrible boyfriend. I woke up on Sunday morning with my mind going "what the HELL was I thinking?"
I sent him a message saying: "Don't text me anymore. Have a great summer." That was it, at least for now.