Black Panties

Lately, I've wanted to hear from bad S.
When I get this way, I try to think of some of the worst things bad S has done to me. To remind me why its better we are not friends, that we don't talk, that he ignores me and that I ignore him. So here it goes:

Admittedly, I was clingy with S, but it wasn't until after he cheated on me. I felt like I needed to be near him at all times so he wouldn't have an opportunity to cheat. He didn't like this, but didn't realize he was the reason for it. He pushed me away. A lot. We'd hang out for a day and the next day he'd freak out and tell me to go away. Then I'd call and it would go back to normal. I'd call. Never him.

One of the times we were apart for a couple of days, he had been helping a "friend" move. He never told me which one. He went to take a shower and asked me to bring him his phone and wallet that were still in the car. So I went.

I couldn't find either in the passenger's seat, so I looked around. Usually, they slip under the seats. I reached under the driver's seat and pulled out a pair of women's black lace underwear.

I froze. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I wanted to yell, but I had no more energy. I sat in the car for a long time. He came out to see what was going on. I was sitting in the driver's seat, the panties in the passenger's seat. There was nothing to say. There was nothing he was going to say to make me feel better.

I left.

He apologized up and down, swore that the panties had fallen out while he was helping her move. He wouldn't give me a name, but I already knew who it could have been. One of the two he'd cheated on me with. It didn't matter anyway.

Yet somehow SOMEHOW. I forgave him.

Again.