Mr. Possibility and I broke up in one of those super-dramatic ways that you’d expect to see in cheesy romantic comedies that we all love to hate. Short summary: He couldn’t give me what I wanted emotionally, and even though I probably loved him more than any of my past boyfriends combined, I knew that settling for a half-hearted love would never be enough for me in the long run.
So after handing him his key back at a sushi restaurant while ‘If You Don’t Know Me By Now’ played in the background, I stepped out into the rain, hailed a cab uptown and cried my eyes out. I wish I was kidding.
A week later, he was whispering he loved me in my ear while going at it from behind so hard I orgasmed twice.
I assumed our post-breakup sex was a one-off that we both needed to seal the end of a relationship that had become so tainted it couldn’t last, but I was wrong. Over the course of the next two years, I continued to sleep on-and-off with my ex.
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