love, or I’m a big girl now

ex-boy tags along to the wine dinner with me. we actually saw each other a bunch last week. fine but whatever. now that i don’t want to fuck him i don’t really care.

anyway, we all got pretty drunk and shared a cab back downtown and he basically passed out in the cab so when the three of us got to my stop i relented and told him to come stay over ‘on the couch.’ we both knew he’d sleep in the bed with me but i could barely take the look on v’s face as it was.

so we go to bed, platonically, next to each other. right before we go to sleep, he actually says it out loud: i did love you, annie. you know i do.

and you know what? i wanted it to matter. i wanted it to make a difference. but i just don’t fucking care any more. too little, too late. and i know, truly, that even if it is true, he’s incapable of actually loving me. and i don’t want that, not even a little.