First Loser

It's hard watching your love loving someone else.

Of course, 90% of the population knows that. Anyone who's ever thought no-one understood their pain, was wrong. It's just that for the most part we don't take out the time or energy to care about the rest of the world's pain. I don't pretend to be any better. Walk down the street and look at your fellow humans one day. Everyone you see has some type of pain, no matter how trivial it may be. The problem is, the way the world works. We learn that it's better to stay self-absorbed, the better not to get involved and hurt. The ones who don't learn that -or worse, try to change it- get eaten alive.

It's easy to get wrapped up in pain when you're experiencing it, and feel like you're the only person in the world. I watch the man who used to be my boyfriend every day, and think back. We were together for five years. I knew about his history, of course. He had daughters, and he was devoted to them. I always knew I came in second when it came to them, and I was alright with that. That's the way it should be, right? I didn't mind.

Of course, I didn't mind anything when it came to him. From the smallest things (he used to leave toothpaste in the sink all the time) to the largest, (he cheated on me with a girl named Stacy) I always forgave him. Now, I won't pretend to be perfect. I'm a smartass, and I know I annoyed him sometimes. I have a quick temper, and that led to some pretty heated arguments. He broke the window out of my car, I put his phone in the microwave, round and round, again and again. But we worked it out. Most of the times were good times. And -most importantly- we didn't hold grudges. At least, not against each other. We were two quick tempered, vindictive people, but we somehow never were as destructive to each other as we were to the rest of the world.

All that became a moot point when he broke up with me, suddenly, and walked off. He asked me to meet him at his office. The first words he spoke were to say we were through. Then he walked away, leaving me alone, shocked, and confused.

I didn't think it was real at first. What was I supposed to think? I thought (more like hoped) that it was some kind of prank. He has a twisted sense of humor. Maybe, somehow, he didn't mean it. He couldn't be ending our five years together like this, could he? Even someone with a warped mind like his wouldn't do that.

But he wasn't taking my calls.

Finally, he called me. Only to say that he was sorry. It wasn't right, he said, to end things like that. But he was getting back together with his ex-wife, the mother of one of his three children. He wanted their family to be together again. For the sake of his daughters, and for her sake. And for his own, I knew, even if he didn't say that part of it.

I always knew I came in second to his daughters. But I tried my best to be the perfect girlfriend for him. Coming in second place to his ex-wife? I didn't see that coming. It hurt like... like a breakup. Like losing the person you loved the most, realizing that they didn't love you as much as you'd thought, and watching them run away from you into someone else's arms. You know what I'm talking about, if you've ever been dumped.

So now, in the present. It's been 7 months since he left me. They're married again, for the 3rd time. And he seems happy. He seems like she drives him crazy, just like be always said, but he seems happy.

I want what's best for him, really. I don't think she's best for him.

I'm way too biased to speak on this accurately. But all I can see is the differences between me and her. I always used to cook for him, because I knew how hard his work was, and I wanted to make his life easier. She's not a fan of cooking, and leaves that all to him. I'm atheist, but I would leave him alone and try to keep the house quiet when he was praying. She cares nothing for that, and always interrupts him. When we would fight, I always tried to make things right, even if part of that was asking him to apologize. When they fight, she won't speak to him until he apologizes to her.

It hurts so much thinking of all the work I put into making him happy and now seeing what he actually wanted. What was the point? Before I met him, I always said love was stupid. I always said I would never get attached, because it could only lead to getting hurt. I said I would never be that stupid, to open my heart to anybody. He convinced me he was different. And I believed him.

Now I realize I was just another chapter in their romance. They've broken up, seen other people, gotten back together a hundred times. I was just another of his "in between" girls. I was just part of a cycle, and that's really all love is. A cycle, that might be endless, if you're... lucky? I guess that's debatable. Or it might end in disaster. So what's the point?

I know he showed me so many things. He was the first person I ever loved. He got me to try calamari, and only laughed when I hated it. He got me to ride my first rollercoaster. He took me to my first Marvel movie. He gave me my first orgasm. He held me through it while I shook and moaned, clenching around him, wondering how it could feel this damn good. I watch him and remember. His teeth in my neck. His cock pushing into me. Kissing me while I dug my nails into his shoulders. He told me I was amazing, and so tight, and so sexy. He was amazing. I knew it, and he knew it.

He took me out so many times. He would listen while I played my guitar, and was patient when I was still figuring out my new amp, and he indulged me when I wanted to go walking in the dead of night. We'd end up in fast food places at dawn, almost falling asleep at the table, and when we finally made it home, he'd tuck me in before he slipped in next to me.

I really thought he was just as in love as I was. And now I watch him stroking her blonde hair and realize that I was all I could be for him, but I never could be her. My hair is dark as night, and reaches my waist. Hers is naturally blonde, short and curled. Her eyes are blue as the goddamn sky, and mine are dark, dark grey, almost black. My skin in golden, hers is pale like porcelain. She has D-cups, I have C-cups.

The point is, it really was all futile. If love is a game, I came in second. Second doesn't matter a goddamn bit in this game. It's just the first loser. And it hurts like hell remembering all the times we shared, but he's happy with who she is, so there's no place for me. I'll never make the mistake of throwing myself into a relationship again, but at least I learned something. And maybe it's futile with the two of them, too. Maybe they'll just split up again, and the cycle will continue. At least he's happy now. He could never have been happy with me, and like I said, I want what's best for him. I really do.

And all the good times we had? Let them be memories.

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Note: This is the first story I've ever written. I'd like to know what you think, because I don't think any first (or fifth) story is perfect. Constructive critics are welcome.