The Sound of a Heart Breaking

I’m pretty sure I just heard my ex’s heart break. I told him I was going to New York to see someone I was almost interested in. I think I’d rather him become completely over me, move on and happy, than to see myself do that first. It’s sadistic, but I’d rather feel the pain of seeing him happy first so that when I move on, I move on with cause. I wonder if he felt this same pain I feel for breaking his heart now, when he broke mine while my grandpa was in the hospital withering away from cancer half a year ago. I feel sorry for my ex and I want to take away his pain, but I doubt those were his thoughts when he broke my heart. While he didn’t take away my pain, he did take most of the appliances from my condo.

I have so little faith in gay men. I look on jack’d and it’s the same washed up old portraits over and over again. It’s me again. And it’s still me. And for some reason I think I’m better because I don’t blatantly spell out my preference of sexual position nor do I desperately beg for the hookup or a relationship. To the contrary, two friends and I have formed a group chat known as “celibuddies” – kind of like sex buddies, but really just celibate buddies who banter about just how sexless our lives are (current winner is at 3-years sans sex). Are we any better? Probably not. But are we any worse? Probably not either.

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