You sent me a text on July 2nd and I saved it, preserved it like some rare artifact or precious gemstone. It seemed like a sign at the time. Of course, when you’re hopelessly in love, you read things into the tiniest moments and your rose colored glasses cleverly filter out any unwanted red flags. Must be a color spectrum thing. You probably don’t even remember what you wrote, much less that you wrote it at all and I know you don’t realize the significance of the date because you never took time to ask. Come to think of it, you haven’t asked much about me at all, like when’s my birthday, what kind of ice cream do I prefer, do I like dogs?... It’s almost like I don’t exist for you. Then suddenly, I cross your mind and you send something romantic over cyberspace. And then you invite me over just often enough to keep me from getting over you. We have a fabulous weekend, you profess your undying love for me and then I don’t hear from you for who knows how long – a week, two weeks, a month – except, of course, for the odd text to keep me on the hook. You know, like the one on July 2nd, my ex-anniversary.....
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- Written by: Joyce Storey