Saturdays are for adventure; Sundays are for cuddling
How amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head.
I wasn’t your first and we both know this. She had your heart before you knew my name. He had mine before I ever looked twice at you. Most of your stories have her in them and it makes me wince but they’re coming less often and this is something to smile about. When you remember that you met him back when he was the one holding my hand, you try to remember what he looked like but you can’t because it didn’t matter then.
They were first and we both know this. They were the first ones to make us say this is what everyone has been talking about. They were here and they were everything and now they’re not and we are something. I want to thank her for leaving you so softly. You want to punch him for leaving me in pieces.
You weren’t my first and we both know this but that’s okay because maybe I learned all the hard lessons with him. Maybe you learned how to love with her.
I guess what I’m trying to say is there are so many different kinds of love in this world. He was my shot of tequila on an empty stomach and she was your monsoon after the sky forgot how to cry for the entire summer but you’re my bed waiting for me after a long day and I’m your glass of red wine that warms you from the inside.
So what if they were first? This doesn’t make me sad anymore. We both promise to do better this time and I finally believe us.