Good Things Don’t Last in the World of a Hopeless Romantic

I didn’t want to be your second choice.

Photo by Phạm Duy Quang on Unsplash

Did you forget about me?

I thought you might have. It’s been a while since I heard your voice. Every time I call, the automated message tells me your inbox is full. When would I stop being surprised? You weren’t the type to wait on anyone’s phone calls.

I’m very good at lying to myself, aren’t I? I’ve had a lot of practice with you.

You may think I’m just hanging on — and you might be a smidgen right — but I like to think the worry is warranted.

Your heart’s been broken, and I hear she took a hammer to it with gusto. But what do I know? It’s all just hearsay.

Do you regret falling in love?

Maybe now you do. You’re probably subsisting on convenience store ramen cups while the dishes pile up in the sink. Why do I think so? Well, you cooked dinner for her almost every night. You liked to make her feel special with dim lights, a burning candle with a subtle scent, and the welcome reprieve of a night in.

In another era, you might have been a marvel as the kind of man who longed to be a stay-at-home dad. I still remember how your eyes gleamed and your lips quirked every time you glimpsed a clumsy toddler in…