Today, I am starting off my day with 16 oz. of water, a menthol cigarette and tears.

I’m nervous.

Long story short- a millennia ago -when my wounds from breaking up with Kane were still fresh (only 3-4 years old) a voicemail sealed me in my relationship tomb. He was gone for what I thought was forever because of it. It was so devastating to me that I even wrote a chapter about the voicemail fiasco in the book I’m working on. Well, I thought about him all day yesterday. I thought about helping me to get into better shape. See he is the only person who could. I didn’t want him to do anything really just hold me accountable. I put calling him on my to-do list. By midnight my time, I was hanging out with the ex (don’t judge me) and it really wasn’t hanging out it was more like, pre-sex arguing- remember he is a psycho so to get turned on he needs a verbal assault first-My phone was on the charger. Kane is on speed dial. My phone was not locked. I butt bumped the phone. The phone is on silent ringer. It dials of all people on earth, Kane. It dials him while I am saying god knows what to the man in front of me. I find this out when I see my phone go off. I grab it and there is Kane’s face, fading, in disappointment. Again.

I text him- Hey ,did I accidently call you or did you call me?

Panic sinks in.

He does not respond.

I do what I was going to do, have a sex stress reliever but the whole time I was thinking, what the fuck did he just hear? Maybe he didn’t hear anything…maybe I wasn’t talking when I butt dialed.

When the deed is done, I kick the ex out. He protests. I have no idea why. Its 3 AM. Closing time.

The ex goes, what the fuck is your problem? You have some control issues.

I go yeah I do. My phone dialed Kane. This cannot happen again. I need you to leave. The person I care about might have overheard something very damaging and I cannot have you stay here.

The ex says, He doesn’t care about you. That is still ringing in my ears.

But I say anyway, Well I don’t care about you, so get out! Mind you I forget sometimes that this kind of exchange turns freak boy on.

The ex says, what are you trying to do, use me to run game on Kane?

The way his mind works is fascinating. No one loves anyone in his world. Everyone is just running some kind of scam on everyone else. This is one of the main reasons I hate him. I just keep saying to myself, Are you going backward? Why is he here? Get rid of him! He is a leech! He is an infection!

Maybe because I am using him for sex he thinks everyone is being used. Have sex with your hand, my mind says, have sex with a paper towel holder for crying out loud anything instead! Anything but him! You hate him! Why do you let him come here when you know that everything he touches, he ruins? After I curse him to high heaven he puts on his Reeboks in a fake rage and storms out.

I just lay in bed and stare at the phone.

Not again. I’m praying. Not again. After 18 years I have finally gotten this man to almost sort of forgive me for crimes I committed when we were teenagers. I don’t ask much of the universe, all I ever wanted was him, and maybe a beer, and possibly a villa in Tuscany. Not much.

He doesn’t care about you is etched in my brain now. Is this my fault? Why did my phone call him? It usually dials my grandma, who forgives me every time for the cursing or sexing or screaming that she hears.

I text- Maybe I was just thinking about you. This is true. I was all day. I wanted his help.

He replies immediately, Nah, I could hear some white dude in the background, lol.

The LOL was not a real LOL.

It was “You are never going to be good enough for me” LOL.

It was a, “I caughtcha bitch, at it again” LOL.

It was a “You are never going to change and grow up” LOL.

Or maybe I am just projecting.

I think my heart dropped into my foot.

I know that we are both single, and I know that he doesn’t owe me anything and I don’t owe him anything and technically he is not mine and realistically I can have sex with whomever I choose and it’s not a big deal.

I’m nervous.

I’m crying.

It’s okay. I’m just projecting.

It’s going to be okay. He does care about me. One little indiscretion. One little feather of an issue, floats away, right?

Not again.

Please, make it okay.