Those words that I had heard so many times, the words that I had believed were true, the words that I had said right back, now had no meaning. The true meaning was now just a shattered memory.

It all began with a drink.

It was a Friday evening, and it was always a nice time to drink and relax with your boyfriend, but tonight was different. Very different. I didn't know what this feeling meant, and that feeling was confirmed when my boyfriend came home already drunk and depressed. I did my best to try and help him into bed, but he just sat down on the couch across from me and poured himself a hefty glass of vodka.

When I asked him what was wrong, he simply replied with, "My boss fired me.". I attempted some form of comfort after that, but he didn't want it. So I just shrugged and blamed it on him being drunk. After all, it's not like he's not attracted to me any more... Right? Anyway, after a few drinks myself, I was slightly tipsy. My vision was slightly blurred, unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds before moving onto something else. My thoughts were slowly melding with each other, making the world seem messed up. In my mind, it was like wonderland.

But, for my boyfriend, he was such a dramatic drunk. When I couldn't take not knowing why his boss fired him (and also his lack of wanting comfort), I asked him again. And oh boy, did he make it more dramatic. He explained that his boss fired him because of his relationship with another male, his work was piling up and that he wasn't doing it fast enough and so his boss thought it was better to fire him and let him find a job more suitable for his lifestyle. The tears weren't faked at all, and the loss of a great job obviously crushed him. He liked his job.

His phone going off interrupted my comforting and his breaking down, so he went and answered his phone, which was in his jacket pocket hanging on the coat rack at the front door of our tiny apartment. I had moved in here a year and a half ago, and we had been dating for a year and a half before that. I suppose you could say that our relationship was a kind of slow one. I haven't dated before, it's hard finding cute, kind and open gays around here. But lately, I've been thinking that this relationship is going no where. He's hardly even paying attention to me any more.

I start listening into the conversation he's having with the person on the other end. I can slowly feel my body tense, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears and the world around me goes black. My thoughts become a jumbled mess. I... I can't hear him any more. He's already said enough to answer my questions about why I feel like this relationship is going no where, like it's on a standstill.

It's a damned woman.

And he's talking to her like she's the most amazing thing on the planet. I don't believe this. My heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. And the pieces are too small to pick up and stick back together. But, I think, that I can try to listen into his conversation again. To confirm my fears, and to see if those pieces can be big enough to stick back together.

Nope. My soul shattered, as the pieces of my heart got smaller.

Apparently, she was his fiancé Since fucking when. I've been dating him for three years straight, and I've never seen no woman. Yeah, he's mentioned one before, but that was only a co-worker. It can't be her. It's im-fucking-possible. These thoughts may be pissed off (they very well are), but they're also filled with gut wrenching sadness. I'm in love with this guy, but I can't help what I feel. I should have known he was the cheating type. No guy is this nice, friendly and good-looking who's gay. He's probably been lying to me for three years straight.

The phone call lasted not much longer, and he apologised for the interruption. He seems to have sobered up, at least. I've been sober since my heart shattered the first time round. But when he made moves on me, I couldn't help but cling to the possibility that it was only a bad dream and that I'd wake up from it and he won't be engaged to a woman, and still loving me like he has been for three years.

Throughout the sex we were having, horrible questions and thoughts clouded my mind, shoving the pleasure aside. Questions like;

Has she ever been in this bed?

What am I to him?

Why am I still loving this guy, despite what has been said?

Am I just a toy?

Have they had sex together?

Why her and not me?

Am I not good enough any more?

Is she pregnant?

If she is, I hope it dies.

It shouldn't exist.

Thoughts like these shouldn't have gone through my head, but they did. I felt guilty right after thinking them. Children should be born, whether the child is a love fling or something planned. After the sex, he instantly fell asleep, not bothering to clean himself up. I, however, took a shower to clear my body and my thoughts. I stayed in the shower until it ran cold. I stepped out of the shower, thoughts rational and kinder, and I wrapped a fluffy white towel around my waist. I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to make sure I didn't have a hang over in the morning. Although I didn't drink a lot, my tolerance is low, so I get hangovers, no matter how little I drink. I wandered towards the spare room which had a bed with blankets and pillows, not bothering to put any clothes on. I just wanted to sleep on these matters and worry about them tomorrow.