With Beyonce's boss ass album drop, cheating seems to be the hot topic of conversation. And while she is about to make millions off of verbally destroying her husband after he fucked her over, we normal people don't usually have platinum albums as a form of closure. It can't help but make you remember that one guy, the one that decided you just weren't enough. Because here's what happens when you are cheated on.
You don't ever expect it. But you borrow their phone because yours shattered, as all iPhones tend to do when your drunk. The word baby slaps you in the face and then you want to slap yourself for being so fucking stupid. Because you know she was always there, lurking in the background of cancelled plans, fear of commitment, and sweet nothings returned only in the cover of darkness.
When you get cheated on it's like drowning on air. You look around and don't see any place to go because the one person you want to go to is tarnished. You freak out, cry, and then like an idiot, think you can work harder to make it work. You go to them. You spend your days planning, trying to become her, but better. The girl he will be satisfied with. And yet each kiss, each graze of a hand, each fight, each stupid text message makes you think of her. You kiss him still. Forgiveness, if you can call it that, but forget the betrayal? Never. And then funnily enough, it's you who are left alone, confused and still smell him on your clothes. You smell closer and night and wonder if you can smell her too. And you hate that other girl.
I still hate that fucking name, meanwhile I know she still knows nothing about me. Turns out, it was me who was the other woman. And that hurts worse.