😭❤️❤️🥳

It was five in the morning. I should be sleeping, but my eyes refuse.

I can't stop thinking about her.

Blonde hair, blue—sometimes gray—eyes. Her smile, she had full pink lips, prefect white teeth. The way she blushes when I stare for a little too long. Every little thing about her keeps me up at night.

My ex-fiancé, Lisa, she did a number on me. I won't lie and pretend like her betrayal didn't kill me inside. I went on a trail of destruction, fucking girls that I can't remember the name of, shutting out my friends, drinking to oblivion.

And one day, I walked into a grocery store.

A man—a matured one— knows when he doesn't have the emotional or mental capacity to be in a relationship. He knows, as soon as he sees a woman he's attracted to.

Just like a woman—a matured one— knows within five minutes of talking to a man, whether or not she wants him.

It's not rocket science.

But the thing is, I didn't get that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. What I did feel was a hammering in my chest.

Just from the sight of her.

I sound like a sap, I know.

I've always preferred commitment over conquests. Not that conquests aren't a great bit of fun, but because I have zero issues with being with a woman more than a few times.

When I want a woman I have feelings for, I don't share.

I mean, unless I'm going through a serious heartbreak like with Lisa and in need of a distraction. That's the only time, I swear.

How could anyone cheat on a woman like her? How do people cheat at all?

I knew the various answers to that question but it still baffles me, even with my own experience.

When men cheat, it's not exactly a new thing. Men have been cheating for ages. Most cases, it starts with regular sex and sometimes turns into more.

News flash, majority of the male population are horny bastards that refuse to be emotional.

And as brilliant as some men are, we've been doing stupid shit since the beginning of time.

Women, however? When they cheat, it's hardly ever just a quick fuck.

It's because he's richer, he's better looking, he works out more than you, he makes her happier, she makes her happier. Yeah, couldn't forget about that last one.

Regardless, both situations are painful.

And I can easily say that Pedro— Pablo, whatever that big hairy fuck's name is— is in now way better than me.

He hasn't seen his toes since the fucking eighties.

God, I hate him.

But anyways, my point is...

Shit, what was my point?

Fuck it, I'm falling for Sarah. That's the gist of it.

And I don't mind it one bit.

So, here I'll remain.

Staring at the ceiling.

Thinking of nothing but her.